


T'du

by Valyria



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mind Meld, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valyria/pseuds/Valyria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her interest was not the idle curiosity in the alien which he had suspected, no, she thought him... there was not a Vulcan word for it. She adored him. This human adored him. It was intoxicating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KerryLamb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KerryLamb/gifts).



> I wrote this for Lamb's Ear and as a break from stories with actual plots and things. It's pretty much smut and Spock being a jerk. It was fun to write however and I'll most likely continue it.

**Spock**

The first time S'chn T'gai Spock touched Nyota Uhura was quite unremarkable. She was handing him a stack of PADDs she had collected from his second year Advanced Phonology students and her left index finger and thumb touched his wrist briefly. She made a facial expression which indicated apology and quickly pulled her hand away.

Spock kept his mental shields up out of habit after living years amidst humans and was therefore not particularly disturbed by the contact. He gestured with a hand to indicate as much and neither of them mentioned the small faux paux again.

It was an incident he did not think on until 8.3 months later when he encountered Cadet Uhura by chance one evening. It was a Friday in the Terran calendar and the last day prior to the first mid-year break. Unpleasantly loud music was therefore being played competitively from different parts of the student residential blocks and cheering and yelling drifted out from dorm windows. Spock was returning to his apartment with a meal purchased from the more appetising of the nearby restaurants when he encountered her passing the quad between the library and the O and N residential blocks.

She was walking arm in arm with the Orion female he had observed her socialising with on several previous occasions. That in itself was unsurprising. What was unusual was their mode of dress. Both cadets were wearing very little clothing. What little material they did have covering themselves was exceedingly tight, iridescent and in places, transparent. Although Spock had been aware that Cadet Uhura was attractive, he had not realised to what degree. She maintained a professional demeanour in her interactions with him and he in turn endeavoured to treat her with the same courtesy. Seeing her clothed in such a revealing and suggestive manner did not fit at all with what he had observed of her personality over the 18.2 months she had been his aide. He wondered if their were extenuating circumstances or if he'd merely been unaware of this aspect of her personality.

Not that her social interactions were relevant to his own association with her. She was a capable assistant and quite talented and intelligent for a human. As long as it did not interfere with her work, if she chose to wander the campus semi-nude with Orions of an evening, that was entirely her own concern. He would not pry, intriguing as it was.

As she and her companion drew level with him on the path, he nodded and offered her a polite greeting on par with their standard interactions.

'Cadet Uhura.'

Instead of returning the nod with 'Commander', 'Commander Spock', or even 'Sir', she smiled at him and let her eyes skip down along his body and back to his face. She then bit her bottom lip and finally replied with _'Commander.'_ But the tone of voice in which it was offered was quite dissimilar to that she usually utilised in their conversations.

Spock resisted the urge to pause and look back at her in confusion.

He heard tittering behind him and a rapid exchange in what he thought was Yrevish, but he was not fluent in the Orion dialect and could not be sure.

He found himself distracted for the rest of his walk across campus to his apartment. The Cadet had appeared to display indicators of sexual interest in him. She was not the first human female to do so, however she was a student and his teaching aide. Not only was it inappropriate, it was also unusual behaviour for her. Cadet Uhura had never displayed any of the signs he had come to recognise as indicators of sexual interest during their interactions.

She never touched him. She did not laugh or smile unnecessarily when they conversed, she did not bring him gifts or offer to share meals with him and it was very rare for her to make any sort of inquiry with regards to his personal life. As such Spock had ignored the fact that she was attractive and female. It was hardly a difficult thing for him as Vulcan. For her to suddenly become attracted to him was highly inconvenient. It could prove distracting. He deduced her forwardness was most likely a result of intoxication however and unlikely to be repeated.

He was proven correct when classes resumed. Cadet Uhura behaved civilly and politely without any indication that she was even aware that they were of opposing genders.

Spock was pleased by this, however he was forced to admit that she _was_ very physically appealing. It was unfortunate that she was a student. Had she not been he might have considered pursuing her. Human females could be intriguing. During his time on earth he had engaged in brief sexual liaisons with several of them. He found himself wondering what sexual intercourse with the Cadet would be like. She was very reserved. Would the same hold true in more intimate moments? If he took her hand in his and shared his attraction for her without words, would she be pleased? He dismissed such thoughts almost as quickly as they occurred to him of course, it was inappropriate, but a part of him did wonder, thought back on the fleeting warm press of her index and thumb against the soft skin of his wrist and was... curious.

As his aide it was only natural that she accompanied him to the Federation Symposium upon Interspecies Education. A tedious event which he was encouraged to attend purely so Admiral Komack could say that Starfleet Academy was 'ahead of the curve' or some other equally illogical idiom when it came to Interspecies diplomacy and understanding.

Even the Cadet seemed to find the experience tedious. She had appeared excited when he informed her she would be accompanying him to Kolari for the event but mid-way through the second day he noted she began shifting a great deal in her seat and sighing. Clear indicators of boredom in a human. Spock was certain he was displaying the Vulcan equivalent - a blank stare.

The only thing he found of any interest in the large conference room was the Cadet herself. Spock made a study of her in his peripheral vision. When she sat down her uniform rode up upon her thighs. He estimated there was only 12 centimetres between the hem of skirt and the crotch of her underwear. Assuming she was wearing any. When she shifted in her seat the skirt moved between 2-4cms higher. In between her sighs she would pull her bottom lip into her mouth and then pout slightly. During the last speaker's address, given by a particularly inept Andorian, Spock found himself picturing her in the indecent dress she'd worn the evening he'd encountered her with her Orion companion and sighing for reasons other than boredom.

The current activity they were engaged in, the 'Industry Dinner Mixer', was proving to be only slightly less tedious than the keynote speeches had been that afternoon. He and the Cadet discussed the more valid points the speakers of the day had made in pleasant enough conversation. The other guests at their table however seemed to have been coerced into attending by their employers in a similar manner to himself and had little interest in proceedings. There was no discussion upon the speakers of the day. They instead appeared to be focused upon ether achieving complete inebriation or insulting one another as much as possible.

The evening did not improve as it continued. After the dessert course an orchestra and dancers appeared to provide entertainment. Within minutes the most inebriated of the guests were dancing themselves, encouraged enthusiastically by their Orion hosts.

The Kolari dancers were skilful and graceful, if overly crude and sexualised in their movements. The assortment of humanoids who joined them were not. Cadet Uhura covered her mouth and laughed when a Tellarite performed an exuberant kicking movement and overbalanced. Spock swiftly found the proceedings tedious. They remained in their seats for a period of 12.8 minutes regarding the dancing. Spock estimated that perhaps 70% of the dinner guests were now swaying with varying levels of success upon the dance floor.

An Orion male approached the Cadet. 'Would you dance lovely human?' he inquired in heavily accented standard.

The Cadet turned to him for apparent approval. _'You may do as you desire.'_ he informed her in Vuhlkansu.

She tilted her head, evidently deciding, before nodding and offering the Orion her hand. She smiled and said 'Thank you. I'd love to dance.'

Spock watched her walk away from the table, her hips swaying more so than usual owing to her formal heeled shoes, with… disapproval. He did not like that she chose to dance. He wanted to return to his room but would now have to remain.

He observed her dancing with the Orion for a period of 7.3 minutes. She would periodically glance in his direction, presumably to ensure he had not departed. She was under his supervision however, he could not leave her. She then danced with an Andorian for 4.8 minutes followed by two human men for 3.9 and 8.1 minutes respectively. Spock grew weary of bearing witness to the Cadet's flirtations. He recalled the manner she had been dressed and how she had spoken to him on that evening he'd encountered her and her Orion friend. Perhaps she wished to take one of these men back to her room. The thought irritated Spock.

He stood and approached her. He caught her eye over the shoulder of her current partner, a human with dark hair, and she nodded and said something to the man clearly excusing herself. However the human laughed and pulled her inappropriately close to himself eliciting a squeaking noise and a shocked facial expression from the Cadet. She frowned and spoke more forcefully, loud enough that Spock could hear her.

'I'm sorry, but I have to go now.' she told the man with more politeness than he warranted.

'No you don't beautiful. Stay a while.' the man responded.

' _Sir._ Let go of me.' the Cadet insisted.

Spock observed that the human had his hand wrapped around the Cadet's slender wrist. He found himself greatly annoyed by the man's rudeness. He stepped to the side so that he was clearly visible to them both.

'Cadet.' he demanded simply, extending a hand.

It was sufficient for the man. He sighed and released the Cadet who quickly stepped away from him and placed her cool human hand in his. His mental shields were up but he felt a twinge of pain from her. The man had strained her wrist slightly. Without really thinking over his actions Spock wrapped his hand around her wrist. The heat of his skin soothed the discomfort. She looked up at him and blinked. Spock observed that she had eyes of a pleasing shape and colour. She was looking at him a manner he was 87% sure implied attraction to him.

He could not be certain however. He wanted to be.

He lowered his shields slightly so he might feel her thoughts. It was a hazy connection. No clear thoughts came to him and nor did he attempt to hear them, but her vague desire was obvious. She _did_ find him attractive. The fact pleased him. Immensely.

' _Thank you sir.'_ she offered in his native tongue. He suddenly wished to hear her speak further in it.

' _Your thanks are unnecessary. Come. We will retire.'_ he replied.

He meant of course, that they would retire to their separate rooms, but through the grip he had of her arm he felt her sudden nervous thrill. He carefully schooled his features into neutrality and turned and led her from the hall. He was aware that he should release her arm, and yet he did not. The journey to their accomodations took only minutes.

She turned to face him at the open door to her room and the confusing mix of anxiety and desire he felt from her stuck like a lump in his throat. He loosened his grip on her wrist and she exhaled softly. Instead of releasing her however, he ran his fingers down along her arm and across the back of her hand. She was looking up at him, her face stricken. Spock brushed his fingers against her. He should not be touching her in such a manner. He twisted his fingers around hers, lifted her hand, encouraging her to return the gesture. She did so haltingly, nervously.

He slid his fingers against hers in slow definite movements. Hazy telepathic connections formed and snapped with his movements, bringing tantalising snippets of her feelings to him. Excitement, anxiety and great waves of lust. He should not be sharing such a thing with her. There was no one to observe them, they were at the end of a corridor and quite secluded, but that did not absolve him. She was a student. It was inappropriate.

Her voice was soft. _'This-one… This-one can feel you.'_

She still spoke in his native tongue. 

 _'Yes.'_ he confirmed needlessly, his fingers moving slowly and deliberately against hers.

He was uncertain how long they stood in the doorway touching in such a manner, but when she next spoke his face had lowered towards her, his forehead nearly touching her own.

' _You want this-one?'_ she inquired in a very quiet voice.

' _Yes.'_ he replied simply. He should not want her but he did.

She swallowed and he felt a great surge of confusing, thrilling, human emotions through his fingertips.

' _You may have this-one.'_

Her words touched something deep inside him. Yes. He wanted her. He would have her. He lifted her and stepped inside her room. She made a noise and wrapped an arm around his neck. Her room was small. Three steps and he had her beneath him on the bed. He wanted to feel her skin, so he pulled the dress from her body. She gasped and twisted and he felt her mix of nervous shock and delight. Like all humans of his acquaintance she seemed to experience a myriad of complicated emotions all at once. He ran a hand up her calf and along her thigh. Her skin was smooth and cool. Her leg raised and bent in response to his touch and he pressed himself into the cradle of her thighs.

She moaned.

He had not kissed her. He wished to kiss her. He did so.

She tasted like the cake she'd eaten for dessert. Its flavour was much improved when sampled from her mouth. Her kisses were deep and sure, she twisted her tongue against him and caught at his lips with her teeth. She undid his jacket and he pulled himself from her briefly to remove it and his undershirt. She sat up and pressed her lips to his skin, kissing along the line of his collarbone. The sensation was enjoyable.

He pulled her hair from its fastenings. It fell down her back in a perfumed cascade. He had never seen it down - she always wore it up. The flowery scent of it made his breath catch in his throat. He carded his fingers through the long strands and then pressed his face into the cool tumble of it, inhaling deeply. She shivered against him, a cool hand curling around his neck, drawing him closer. He pulled back and regarded her face. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted and her breath coming in soft pants. He could feel her heart-beat, much faster than usual, high against his chest. She was very beautiful.

Tilting his head he gripped the length of her hair and twisted his hand so that it wrapped around his fist. A slight tug and her head tilted back. She gasped and her eyes widened, the hand at his neck digging into his skin a little. He pressed his mouth to her face, down the length of her neck, tasting her with his tongue and scraping his teeth against her skin. The scent of her was alluring. Pleasing Terran perfume and beneath it the exotic human smell of her body itself _._ She tasted of salt. He resisted the urge to mark her, but let his teeth dig softly into her flesh.

She made a noise that was part moan part gasp and her legs wrapped around his hips, pushing the heat of her against him in invitation, even as her body shook and shivered as if she was afraid. She was an incredibly arousing contradiction. He mouthed his way down her body until he encountered her bra. He fumbled for a fastening for a moment before simply pulling it from her. The action made her back curl and Spock took the opportunity to latch onto her breast and draw a nipple into his mouth. She moaned, her hips grinding against him and long fingers twisting in his hair.

He fumbled one handed with his trousers, kicking them down his legs and freeing himself. He pressed his mouth to her other breast and ripped away her underwear.

' _Spock!'_ she whined. She had never called him by his name before. She seemed to be attempting to communicate several contradictory things with just that one utterance.

Spock shifted, let his _lok_ press against her so that her folds parted around him, greeting him in a warm wet kiss. She made a fascinating noise in the back of her throat and her back arched off the bed pressing her hips against his in an exceedingly pleasing manner. Her body was shaking beneath him. He pulled himself up to her face and stared at her as their bodies slid against one another in wet heat. Her eyes were wide. Her brow furrowed slightly and her mouth moved as her breath caught in time with his movements against her. Her expressiveness aroused him.

She caught his eyes and spoke. _'Spock, this-one... this-one has not...'_

The trembling heat she imbued his native tongue with was nearly obscene and he felt himself growl slightly in response, suddenly impatient to have her. He pulled at her hair and her head tilted back, her words trailing off as the long line of her throat was displayed beneath him. He rubbed his face against it, leaving his scent on her skin. He wrapped a hand around her hip, pushed at her, and then their bodies were aligned. The head of his _lok_ sunk into the tight heat of her. He grunted at the sensation. He had not engaged in sexual intercourse for over a standard year. It appeared he had forgotten the appeal the activity held.

The Cadet was shaking beneath him, her eyes almost fearful despite the lust he could feel from her, smell coming off her skin in waves. He shifted his hips slightly and her mouth fell open in an 'o'and a whimpering noise escaped her. The sound sent a bolt of lust through him and he buried himself inside her in a short sharp movement. She froze beneath him, around him. Perfection. Incredibly tight molten wet heat surrounding him he -

\- He felt her pain.

He stared down at her in shock. She was blinking back tears, her breathing tumultuous. He could smell the iron scent of her blood from where his body was buried inside her. She was impossibly tight around him, bands of muscles flexing and stretching around him. The cause of her discomfort was obvious. No one. No one had ever had her.

He was the first.

He was only one who'd done this with her. Held himself inside her, felt her thighs wrapped around his hips… He ground himself against her. She moaned and flexed around him. His body burnt. He wanted to take her roughly, harshly, make her scream his name and promise to never let another have her. Yes. No other. There was a dull roaring noise in his ears.

He was the first, but that wasn't enough. He wanted to be the _only_.

He wanted sink his teeth into her and mark her as his, press his fingers to her face and join their minds as he joined their bodies -

He did not of course.

Melding with a human was too great a risk. But he did purposefully twist his fingers against hers. His impression of her discomfort sharpened. He stared at her as he pulled himself from her body. She frowned and her breath was drawn out of her with him. She did not ask him to stop or wait despite the pain he felt clearly through his fingers. Instead Spock got the impression she had every intention of simply _enduring_ his attentions. He did not understand _why_ she would do such a thing, but did not give it much thought since she would not have to. Instead he reached through his fingers towards her, sharing what he felt, pushing the pleasure of her body hot and tight around him back at her.

She gasped, her eyes widening, her thighs tightening around him. He slid forward in a long smooth stroke. Pain and pleasure smouldered between them. He repeated the movement. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and he felt her relax as she stared up at him in wonderment. He was careful for a few minutes, taking her with a gentleness greatly at odds with his desire. But when she arched her back and begged him for more, he did not give her opportunity to reconsider. He fucked her. She clutched at him, thrashing about in a bewildering mess of pain and blinding pleasure. She moaned and screamed, and just before he found his release Spock found himself growling _'T'nash-veh t'nash-veh t'nash-veh (mine mine mine)'_ against her skin.

' _t'du! t'du! (yours yours)'_ she wailed in agreement and her words brought him almost as much pleasure as her body.

Spock exploded deep inside her, the telepathic connection of his fingers dragging her forcibly along with him so that her body clenched with almost painful tightness around him. He groaned and let himself fall into her, his face pillowed on her hair. He allowed himself a few seconds of respite. He blinked slowly and enjoyed the pleasing scent of her floral Terran shampoo as his heart-rate and respiration returned to normal.

Their hands were still tightly entwined.

He felt... _awe_ from her. He had not encountered such a reaction before. Then again he had not used his touch telepathy to such an extent during intercourse before. Nor had he ever had a virgin. He supposed given the situation her reaction was not unexpected.

She turned to look at him but did not speak. Exceedingly timidly considering his _lok_ was still inside her, she pressed her fingers to his face. He allowed her touch. The sensation of her cool human fingers sliding up his cheek, tracing his left eyebrow and then running down the length of his nose before pressing into his lips was not unpleasant. Nor was what he felt from her through his fingers. She did not think him merely attractive and her interest was not the idle curiosity in the alien which he had suspected, no, she thought him... there was not a Vulcan word for it. Magnificent? _Maut-ugel_ was as close as he could translate. She ran her fingers over his face not because she thought it would please him, but because she thought him beautiful. Because she felt being permitted to touch him thus was a great honour. Adoration. This human adored him.

Spock pulled her to him and kissed her. Her delight tingled through his fingers. It was intoxicating.

They did not attend any of the talks the next day.

Spock found her body endlessly appealing. He told himself that it was the novelty that he had been her first. That she had chosen him. It was something of an honour he supposed. She was beautiful and intelligent. A highly desirable female. He had simply touched her hand and she'd given to him what others must have begged for. This pleased him. She pleased him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Lamb's Ear for her suggestions with this chapter.

**Nyota**

He acted as if nothing had occurred on Kolari. As if she hadn't given her virginity to him and spent the entirety of the next day naked in bed with him letting him do whatever he pleased with her.

He'd made her  _say_  things.

Humiliating things. Made her say that she was his, that she  _belonged_  to him and that she'd never let another touch her. He'd demanded everything from her, made her admit to loving him in everything but the word itself.

And now he acted as if nothing had passed between them.

She followed his lead. At first she'd thought he was simply being careful. Logical. She was his teaching assistant, they most definitely should not be involved in a personal relationship of any sort. So she waited for him to say something. He did not.

Two months passed. She thought perhaps she hated him.

Gaila took her out dancing and she let men buy her drinks and then touch her, kiss her. They put their tongues down her throat and wrapped their hands around her hips but she didn't feel that giddy lustful spark she'd felt when Spock had touched her.

She left alone, drunk, and woke up with a headache and bad memories.

She decided that she  _did_  hate him.

Sunday she spent in bed recovering. Gaila appeared in the late afternoon looking almost as bad as Nyota's felt. They complained about men and vodka and the way Andorian ale snuck up on you.

She wore her hair down the next day out of necessity. One of the faceless men she'd let kiss her had left a faint hickey on her neck. She'd tried to cover it with makeup but that just seemed to draw attention to it. It was warm and she had to constantly remind herself not to pull her hair back into her usual ponytail.

After her last class she was scheduled to spend an hour marking first year assessment for Commander Spock. His office was a stifling 30˚c as per usual. They exchanged stilted meaningless greetings and she focused on her work and tried to ignore his presence. Tried to forget the way she'd been tempted to go home with that dark haired boy and let him fuck her and pretend he was Spock. She made it half way through the stack of marking in her allotted hour. She packed her things, shouldered her bag and turned to make her farewells.

Her hair caught under the strap of her satchel, it had been happening all day. She pulled it out with a sigh.

'I'm leaving Commander.' she informed Spock.

He looked up with cool dark eyes and Nyota waited for a beat to hear the usual 'Farewell Cadet.'

Instead he snapped at her in Vulcan. ' _What is that?'_

She frowned in confusion both at his suddenly aggressive tone and the question itself.

' _What is what?'_

He stood. Was suddenly between her and the door to his office. Her heart began beating too quickly. She stepped back from him slightly. He reached out and grabbed her jaw in a bruising grip, shoved her head to the side. She yelped in surprise and discomfort, her hands rising to push against him automatically. He was very close, she could feel his hot breath against her skin as he looked down at her.

'Hey!' she demanded. Who the hell did he think he was grabbing her like that?

' _You let another mark you?'_  he practically spat at her. She'd never heard him sound so transparently  _emotional._

'I…' she wasn't sure what she wanted to say, couldn't decide if she wanted to tell him to _fuck off_  or placate him.

' _You parade yourself before this-one in such a manner?'_   He was glaring at her now, the muscles in his jaw pulsing.

' _Release this-one.'_  she demanded.

' _No.'_ he replied leaning closer. She wasn't sure what he was going to do but he didn't seem to be in the mood for kissing. He crowded her, backed her across the room until her thighs hit a desk hard enough to sting. Her jaw was beginning to ache from his iron grip.

' _You are hurting this-one.'_  she told him in a small voice, almost afraid.

His grip eased and his hand slid around her face and into her hair. His hold was much looser, but she felt the underlying threat of strength behind it. His hips pressed forwards against hers and she felt the blunt shape of his cock straining through his trousers. He was  _hard?_   This _excited_ him?! Her body shivered and heat shot through her in response despite herself.

' _You gave yourself to another?'_

If possible he sounded even angrier than earlier, despite his gentler touch.

He gripped her hip, shoved her backwards so she was forced to sit heavily upon the desk. He immediately positioned himself between her thighs and pressed himself against her. She couldn't hold in the little moan that escaped her.

' _Answer me.'_  he demanded, his grip on her hair painful for a moment.

Her eyes widened.  _'this… this-one… did not.'_

His hips were flush against her, his body pressed tortuously close, moving against her in tiny movements.

' _And yet his mark is upon you.'_

She was having difficultly thinking, let alone understanding what was happening. Forming coherent sentences was much more difficult than usual.

' _He… this-one doesn't even remember his name.'_ she replied.

Rather than reassure him, her words seemed to incite him further.  _'You let some nameless man put his mark upon you when you belong to this-one?'_

She blinked. _'This-one belongs to you?'_  she inquired, hating the breathless tone of her voice.

His eyes narrowed but he didn't respond. Instead she felt him fumbling with his trousers and then there was a sting as he ripped her panties off and the cotton dug into her flesh. She was humiliatingly wet. Her legs wrapped around him of their own accord as he aligned their bodies, the rigid heat of him forcing a low whining noise from the back of her throat. He pulled at her hair and glared at her as he parted her folds and thrust home, forcing a huffing noise from her with the force of his movements. There was no pain at all this time, just glorious burning heat as he stretched her, filled her in the way only he ever had. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her body twisted against her control and the hands that had been pushing against him were sudden wrapped around his shoulders pulling him closer. She forgot her anger, forgot everything in the world beyond what she had her legs wrapped around.  _Spock._  She moaned.

' _Do you belong to this-one?'_  he asked, repeating her question, throwing it back at her.

' _Yes.'_  she whispered and his face softened slightly and she thought he would kiss her, but instead he roughly turned her face and bit her.

She cried out in shock and pain.

She knew what he was doing, he was covering the mark on her neck with one of his own and the possessive nature of his actions thrilled her, but it  _hurt._

His teeth were sharp and alien, his jaw far stronger than a human's. She didn't doubt that he could rip out her throat like a jaguar if the urge struck him. She tried to turn her face from him, but he growled in warning and bit her again. She sobbed and dug her fingers in his hair, pulling at it roughly in a bid to make him stop. He ignored her and in anger she retaliated by biting the one part of him she could reach. His ear. Hard. He made a deep, shocking, noise that she felt vibrate through his chest and his hips slammed up against her roughly, pushing her off the table. He released her neck and was suddenly kissing her furiously, his body taking hers at a brutal pace.

Her neck throbbed, the heat of the fading pain blurring into the consuming pleasure and friction of Spock moving deep inside her. She gasped and choked on his kisses, half crying. She could taste blood. She wasn't sure if it was his or hers. She bit his lips, yanked at his hair, wanting to hurt him. But then he grabbed her thigh and pulled her more firmly against him. He slid a tiny bit deeper and his pelvis was suddenly grinding against her clit with each stroke. She forgot her anger and moaned into his mouth, her kisses turning wet and welcoming until she could not longer co-ordinate her lips and tongue and gave up to make high pitched pleading noises in his ear as her climax approached.

When it crashed over her, rushing through her body in great blinding waves, Spock groaned, his rhythm faltering and she felt him pulse within her.

She was sweaty, hot and her neck throbbed painfully as she came to her senses. Spock was still pressed flush against her. Still inside her. The heat of him was oppressive. She couldn't believe what had just occurred. She met his eyes in bewilderment.

He regarded her coolly.  _'You will not allow another to touch you.'_

Sudden almost blinding indignation and anger welled up in her. She slapped him across the face, as hard as she could. His skin blushed green. He growled and leant towards her, all threatening angles once more. Tears pricked her eyes. She drew a shuddering breath. Her hand stung. Her neck hurt. She pressed her palm to her neck as if the pain would cancel each other out. It came away smeared red.

'You  _hurt_  me.' she accused him thickly, not just referring to her neck.

The anger faded and Spock stared down at her bloody palm with a strange expression on his face. He took her hand in his and she let him, limp and confused in his arms. He stared at her intensely, his dark eyes trapping her. Nyota felt almost like he was hypnotising her, which wasn't totally implausible considering. He lifted her hand and pressed it against the side of his head. The heel of her palm rested against his fever-hot cheek and her fingers curled around his ear. She didn't understand. She stretched her fingers and he made a strange huffing noise deep in his chest and she suddenly thought he might kiss her. She tried to tell herself she wouldn't welcome it.

Instead he raised his free hand between them, his index and middle finger extended, the ring and little finger bent against his palm. It was the same gesture he'd made on Kolari, right before she'd invited him into her room. He wanted to share thoughts with her. Nyota swallowed warily but returned the gesture, pressing her fingers to his.

What she felt made her gasp and stare at him in wonder.

It was nothing like the last time. On Kolari she'd felt cool, restrained things from him - general appreciation for her and a detached sense of sexual attraction and then later on when they were... well... purely physical things. What she felt now was profound, beyond her understanding. A great burning feeling she had no name for. He was balanced on a precipice, she had done something... something  _bad_  and he had responded in the only way he could.

She frowned.  _'This-one does not understand.'_  she whispered.

He was trying to understand something himself, trying to translate something that was Vulcan into concepts she would understand.  _'You gave yourself to this-one.'_ he said, his voice soft and low but his eyes boring into hers still with violent heat. Nyota nodded slowly.  _'This-one...'_  he frowned and she felt him searching for words.  _'cannot share.'_

She blinked. _That_  was his big excuse for his behaviour? He was  _jealous!?_ She exhaled sharply through her nose and resisted the urge to hit him again.

He felt her thoughts and glared at her.  _'No, you do not understand.'_  He huffed out a breath.  _'Not this-one cannot share. Vulcans. Vulcans cannot share. It is not jealousy. It is simply fact.'_

 _'You are saying this behaviour is normal for a Vulcan?'_ she asked in disbelief.

 _Yes.'_ he replied stiffly. She felt the truth of his words.

 _'You should have told this-one!'_  Nyota spat at him. How was she supposed to know? She'd thought his words on Kolari, his demands of her, had just been some sort of kink since he'd ignored her _completely_  since their return.

He leant forward again and Nyota was suddenly and explicitly reminded that he was still inside her. She let out a strangled gasp as he jerked against her. Her thigh muscles tightened automatically and she realised that her legs were still wrapped around him. They were arguing. And... almost fucking. His eyes were boring into her. He shifted again, intentionally this time. She managed to swallow a confused moan but her body flexed around him and he made another of those low growling noises.

 _'This-one told you.'_ he hissed at her. _'You belong-to-this-one. But you let another touch you. No one may touch what belongs to this-one. No one may touch you.'_

His words were terrible. Primitive. Barbaric. But they sent heat curling through her. She tried in vain to remain focused, but she could feel him like molten steel buried inside her and she was  _dying_ for him to move. He could feel her want, she was certain of it. She felt his intention, drew in a breath to tell him to wait, but he'd already moved his hips, slid out a few inches from her body and then back in. Their hands were still joined. She felt his pleasure as well as her own and unlike the last time he'd shared thoughts with her as he shared her body, there was no pain, just an intense doubling of the sensation the movement created. She tried but couldn't hold back the whining noise that escaped her or the way she instinctively pulled him closer. He moved again, slowly, deeply, staring down at her as if daring her to tell him to stop.

She couldn't. She didn't want to. Her mind didn't understand it, but her body seemed to agree with his claims that she was his.

She felt his satisfaction as she submitted to him. He seemed to melt against her, the rigid hard lines of him relenting, no longer threatening in the least. He pressed his face against her's, rubbing himself on her and she realised from his thoughts that he was marking her with his scent. It was unbearably hot.

 _'Spock...'_ she moaned.

She wasn't sure what she was trying to say. He certainly had no idea. Hearing her call his name pleased him however. She felt his thoughts.  _/you will kiss this-one./_  Yes. She could to that. That sounded like a great idea.

She obliged him, turning her head and kissing him, curling her tongue around his and exploring the cavern of his mouth. He was so hot. His breath, his tongue, it was like kissing fire.  _He's Vulcan!_  a little voice in her head reminded her along with useful facts about disparate body temperature and bone density and other things. Yes Vulcan. she agreed with herself. Strong and hot and apparently incredibly possessive.  _Vulcan. Vulcan. Vulcan._

Suddenly she found the word a turn on.

It had become synonymous with _Spock_ in her mind. Spock who was most likely privy to her bizarre reflections but she didn't care. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and bit down, quite hard. He groaned and his hips snapped forward hard enough shove her back along the desk a little. She felt some feeling she didn't recognise in response to her bite. Some Vulcan feeling. It was like lust, but not. She was distracted from her thoughts by the increasingly desperate movement of Spock against her. He was going to come. She could feel it, it was a rising hot pressure between them and it made her whine and rock her hips against him. She wanted him to come. Wanted it desperately, more than she even wanted to come herself. She wanted to feel him spend himself inside her. He groaned into her mouth, his rhythm faltering for a moment. He reached his hand between them and pressed his fingers against her.

He  _did_  something. She couldn't tell what precisely, but she felt a surge of something like heat but entirely different surge through her clit and she came screaming around him. Her body felt like it had been electrocuted by... by..  _sex._  She vaguely felt him join her, felt the heat of him pulsing inside her, but she was in something of a state of shock. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, her breath coming in pants and her body shaking.

Spock was licking her.

She knew this, knew it was odd, but couldn't bring herself to think further upon it. By the time her breathing had returned to normal her thoughts were less scattered. Spock had his face pressed to her neck and was licking her neck. Bizarre as it was, the warmth of his tongue was soothing on the sore bites he'd made there what felt like years previously. His chest was vibrating and she could just barely make out a faint rumbling noise emanating from him. One of his arms was wrapped around her, the other was between them, their fingers still pressed together.

She swallowed and tried to gather her wits. She lifted her head. Spock shifted with her, continuing his ministrations. Nyota turned to look at him. He grumbled like a cat disturbed when napping and followed the movement. She gave up trying to get him to look at her for the moment and just stared at what she could see of him. Her hand was still pressed against his ear where he'd placed it earlier. There was a dark stain on the collar of his grey instructor's uniform. Nyota followed it with her eyes up along his neck to the green trickle escaping past her fingers. She frowned and stared at his blood, feeling parts of the strange alien puzzle that was Spock shifting in her brain.

He lifted his head and looked down at her, blinking slowly.

She pulled her hand from his face to reveal a mix of green and red on her fingers. She glanced at his ear. When she'd told him that he'd hurt her, he'd pressed her hand to his ear. She'd bitten it. She'd made him bleed. That was important. She knew it but the meaning was just out of her reach. Frowning she rubbed her fingers together, smearing the red and green. An idle impulse to lick them clean as she would a papercut crossed her mind. Spock made a rumbling noise and she  _felt_  his reaction to the thought, it shot through her fingers and up along her arm to spread heat through her veins. She had her fingers in her mouth, the metallic taste of their blood on her tongue before she even really made a decision to do so. The look Spock gave her made her whimper.

His fingers were sliding against hers sending weird hot tingles sparking over her skin. She caught little snippets of his thoughts, truncated musings in Vulcan. He thought in Vulcan. She thought in Swahili. They were alien to each other, beings from planets 15 lightyears apart and yet here they were, pressed against one another, their thoughts slipping into each other... It was...  _riolozhikaik (illogical)_  and yet...  _kaiidth (what is, is)._

Suddenly she understood. That burning hot Vulcan feeling. Spock biting her. Everything. Her heart was trying to beat itself out her chest again. She pulled Spock towards her, curling a hand around his cheek and turning his face. He regarded her out of the corner of his dark eyes. She swallowed, took a deep breath through her nose and summoning her courage licked along the curve of his ear gently, tasting his coppery blood. His breath left his chest in a hot whoosh and he growled, the arm around her tightening almost painfully. Through his fingers she could feel... she still didn't have a name for it, but it was exhilarating, burning, and whatever it was called Spock felt a  _lot_  of it. He was making that strange rumbling noise deep in his chest again. Nyota lathed her tongue against the bite mark she'd left on him, licked at the blood until the wound was clean.

He turned to regard her again, rubbing his face against hers in what she now knew was a gesture of deepest... affection. Just like she knew that what they were doing with their fingers was considered as intimate as a french kiss. But the most important thing she now thought she understood, the thing she didn't have a name for, still hung over her, unresolved. She needed to be sure... Spock was waiting, staring at her intently. She took a breath, forced the words out of her throat.

 _'Spock... t'nash-veh? (belonging-to-me?)'_  she asked quietly.

His eyes closed in that strange slow blink and he leant forward, pressing his face against her.

 _'T'du. (belonging-to-you)'_  he replied.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

**Spock**

 

In his previous experiences with females, Spock had found that after his curiosity had been satisfied little interest remained. In the case of Cadet Uhura it appeared that the exact opposite was true. After their return from Kolari his attraction to her had increased rather than deceased. Having had her, he wanted her all the more. It was a want he could not satisfy since an ongoing association with her would be illogical. Unthinkable.

Enduring her presence therefore became a trial.

She spent 4 hours per week alone in his office and 8 hours in lectures and classes he taught. He saw her daily. He felt her eyes on him as he stood teaching and could practically feel her thinking about him when they were alone in his office. The frustration he felt as his attraction to her failed to dissipate soon became frustration reflected directly upon her. Her effect upon him angered him, and his lack of emotional control was humiliating.

When she pulled her hair forward over her shoulder and curled the long strands around her fingers he grit his teeth. When she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and frowned in thought, he clenched his jaw. When she sighed and shifted in her seat he restrained the urge to glare at her. He knew she had always made these gestures, but they seemed now to be intentional provocation.

He knew precisely how her hair felt wrapped around his fist, how soft her lips were when pressed against his and had heard her make far more interesting noises then the bored little sighs she periodically emitted in his presence.

Whenever she drew his attention to his memories of these things the urge to re-enact them was exceedingly tempting.

And it should not be.

It was one thing to indulge his curiosity, his primitive human desires, during a brief trip off-planet, but another entirely to entertain thoughts of any sort of serious involvement with his young, _human,_ teaching aide. He therefore, perfectly logically, ignored his impulses and desires with regards to Cadet Uhura, and waited for them to subside. They did not. All his restraint achieved was that in the weeks that followed he found himself in an ever-increasing state of agitation.

He knew he had offended her with his apparent disinterest - their interactions became increasingly confrontational. Two weeks after their return she ceased spending additional time in his company. Previously she had often stayed slightly beyond the scheduled timetable to complete her work.

A month afterwards she no longer offered anything but the most perfunctory niceties.

Two months afterwards she openly glared at him on occasion and actively avoided his company. On three separate occasions he observed her turn away from him at seeing his approach whilst crossing the campus.

Rather than reassure him her cool behaviour just irritated him further.

He had spent an hour attempting and failing to ignore her presence in his office on a Monday evening when his control was irrevocably shattered.

She’d been wearing her long hair loose, an unusual style for her and one which naturally reminded him of the only other time he had seen it unrestrained, when she’d invited him into her room on Kolari. At precisely 19:00 hours she’d stood and packed her belongings. Spock had been almost as eager for her to leave as she herself was. Her presence was oppressive. She’d stopped to offer her usual detached farewell, avoiding eye-contact and adjusting her hair around the strap of her bag as she did so.

He’d know instantly what the bruise on her neck was, but he’d found himself demanding clarification regardless. The next minutes had been a blur. He did not recall when he had last felt such anger. Perhaps as a child when classmates had insulted his mother. Certainly not recently. He’d scared her, but he hadn’t cared. That one mark had undone weeks of meditation and careful mental discipline. The logic to avoiding further entanglement with the Cadet had suddenly seemed entirely irrelevant.

It had been easier after that. There was no point denying something that was fact. He had thought to treat her as he had his previous sexual partners, i.e. with a complete lack of interest, but it appeared that would be impossible. The thought of another touching her was unacceptable. His violent response to the mark upon her neck had been instinctual, a feeling quite dissimilar to any he had ever experienced before. It was not until she had bitten him, marked him in return, that he had been forced to accept the full truth however. It was not a human weakness of his that had him fixated upon her, he did not merely desire further sexual interaction with the Cadet in the manner of a human male – it was the Vulcan in him that wanted her.  

Which brought Spock to his present conundrum.

His ear stung slightly. He could feel his hair sticking up where her hands had pulled at it. He could smell her maddening scent all over him. It was impossible to ignore the indicators that he had just broken no less than three Starfleet regulations and engaged in sexual intercourse with his teaching aide. In his office no less.

Spock straightened his uniform and pondered his situation. It was not one he had anticipated.

He did not know what he should do given his predicament. What he _wanted_ to do was bury his lok inside her again and meld with her, claim her mind as he had already claimed her body. Bind her to him with more than words, make her his mate.

But she was human, that was unacceptable.

If he were to behave in such a manner he could not imagine ever being welcome on his home-world again. Certainly there was a good chance Sarek would disown him. He would not be the first son cast aside.

And of course, who was to say she would even agree to such a thing? She barely understood what it was he felt for her. The concept of being his bond-mate, having her mind permanently joined to his, would be far more shocking to her than his possessive sexual behaviour had been.

His office door slid open and Spock was drawn from his internal conflict.

She had neatened herself in the nearby bathroom. She came to stand in the middle of his office, avoiding looking at him. Nervous. Anxious. Despite her attempts to clean herself she still smelt of him, even from across the room. It both satisfied and aroused him. A part of him wanted to push her to the floor and have her again. As he stared at her idly considering how receptive she would be to such attentions, she pushed her hair behind a curved human ear in a nervous gesture. His eyes were drawn to her neck. He was mildly surprised at how deep the marks there were. His feelings on them were conflicted - they would be causing her pain which was unfortunate - however he found he had no regrets. She had driven him to such measures by allowing another to mark her.

‘Um.’ she said, finally looking at him and biting her lip. ‘So, um. What… what should we do?’

Spock frowned slightly. She was rarely so irritatingly vague in her speech patterns. He restrained the urge to demand she express herself more coherently. He was familiar enough with humans to understand her meaning. She desired clarification as to the terms of their association. This was unsurprising. His behaviour had been illogical and her confusion understandable.

Spock was uncertain what to tell her however.

‘I mean, I don’t… I’m not expecting anything.’ she continued, her eyes now focused upon the floor.

Spock crossed the distance between them and slid his hand along her jaw, gently tilting her face upwards. Her eyes widened and her breath came out in a little huff. Touching her served the dual purpose of reassuring her of his attention and letting him sense the general shape of her feelings. And proximity to her was not unpleasant, with her lips swollen from his kisses she was even more physically appealing than usual.

‘Forming any sort of sexual relationship with a student is a breach of Starfleet Regulations.’ he informed her. She blinked and he felt the muted reflection of a disconcerting wave of some emotion he didn’t recognise through his fingertips. ‘However my attempts to distance myself from you have proven pointless.’ he finished.

At his words her feelings changed and she was swamped with yet another strange complicated human emotion. The strength with which she felt things was incredible. In the space of seconds her mood swung from one extreme to another.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, staring into his eyes as if she was trying to read _his_ thoughts.

What he wanted was her, wanted her in the way a Vulcan wanted a female, all of her, permanently. That was not what she was asking of course, and not something he would have admitted had she been. What she wanted to know was if he wished to ‘see’ her in the human fashion. ‘date’ her. And if so, his particulars as to that association. Spock felt mild irritation at the entire concept. Vulcans did not ‘date’.

‘An ongoing, discreet, exclusive sexual relationship.’ he replied succinctly outlying his immediate desires in Terran terms she would understand. It would do for now.

Her emotions twisted again and Spock felt a pleasant warm feeling through the muted connection. She blushed. Spock curiously pressed the fingers of his free hand to her cheek to feel the heat the increased blood flow caused. ‘You are agreeable to this?’ he inquired.

‘Yes.’ Her heart-rate was accelerated. He recognised the latest emotion she was feeling. Happiness. Her lips were moving slightly as she tried not to smile.

He nodded. ‘I am gratified Cadet Uhura. It is however nearly curfew.’ he made the observation because he wished to return to his apartment and meditate.

She bit her lip again and gave him a look he did not understand, then she stood on her toes and kissed him, a soft press of warm lips against his. It was not unpleasant.

 ‘Nyota. My name is Nyota.’ she said as she settled back down.

Spock blinked down at her. He was of course, aware of her name. Clearly she wished for him to refer to her by her first rather than second. He was amenable. ‘Nyota.’ he said. It was a pleasing enough name - exotically un-Vulcan.

She smiled. ‘Goodnight… Spock.’         

.

He did not have opportunity to see her alone again until 15:00 hours on Thursday.

They exchanged unremarkable greetings and she crossed to take her customary seat at the second desk in his office. She remained for the allotted hour, working. She made no reference to their encounter on Monday. At 16:20 hours she packed her belongings. Spock was aware that she had a two hour lecture at 16:30 hours and therefore made no suggestion of further interaction.

She hesitated slightly before she departed with her customary pleasantries. He returned them in kind.

Their interaction on Friday followed a similar pattern.

Spock was occupied over the weekend with programming work for the latest incarnation of the Koyabashi Maru. He thought upon Nyota Uhura, but only briefly. He knew he would see her on Monday evening.

As he was crossing between his mid-morning Interspecies Ethics lecture and his Advanced Phonology tutorial he observed her crossing between classes with her usual Orion companion. A male cadet was walking alongside them and smiling a great deal. Spock did not like the manner in which he looked at Nyota Uhura.

The trio turned towards D Block and she caught his eye for a period of  5.7 seconds. The male cadet talking to her was ignored entirely, her full attention focused upon him. Spock found her obvious dismissal of the cadet in favour of him to be entirely… satisfactory.

During her scheduled meeting with him that evening Spock observed her glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes a great deal. The marking he tasked her with was not completed with her usual alacrity. When she packed her belongings to leave Spock spoke.

‘Do you have any immediate plans for this evening Cadet Uhura?’

She paused, a slender brown hand clutching a PADD very tightly, and turned to regard him. Her throat moved as she swallowed. ‘I do not Commander.’ she replied.

Spock stood. ‘You will accompany me to my apartment.’

She blinked, frowning slightly, and pushed the PADD into her bag, closing it afterwards. Rather than responding to his words she gave him a look he did not understand. She appeared displeased. Spock attempted to fathom the meaning behind her sudden change in mood. ‘You have reassessed your acceptance of our association?’ he asked though it seemed unlikely.

Her frowned deepened and she shook her head. ‘No…’ She twisted her lips to one side in an odd gesture before she seemed to come to some sort of decision. ‘I will accompany you.’ she confirmed.

It was still quite early and there were many wandering the campus, student and staff alike. Spock and Cadet Uhura attracted no especial interest. She walked half a step behind him, silently following Spock’s lead. It was entirely unintentional upon her part, but she walked beside him in the _telik’rak,_ the position of a bonded female. Spock pretended that this action did not please him.

She did not speak until they arrived at the hoverbus station near the main entrance to the Academy Campus. ‘You live off campus sir?’ she inquired needlessly.

‘That is correct.’ Spock replied.

She did not speak for the rest of their short journey, just silently followed Spock off the bus when he indicated they should disembark. There were in the financial district in the centre of the city. The building housing his apartment was 378m distant. A short walk. She fell into step beside him once more, losing some of her meekness now there were no other Starfleet personnel to observe them.

Spock noted she looked into the windows of restaurants they passed with no small interest. It occurred to him that she most likely had not partaken of her evening meal. Although he found himself impatient to get her to his home, into his bed and naked beneath him, he still found himself speaking. ‘Nyota.’

The look she gave him at the use of her first name made him consider not finishing his sentence.

‘Do you require sustenance?’ he inquired. The same instincts that had him taking a cadet home to engage in illogical personal interaction demanded he ensure her physical well-being. It was the duty of a Vulcan male to provide for and protect their mate. He did not wish to feel these primative Vulcan urges in relation to Nyota Uhura, but found the pull inescapable. It irritated him.

She blinked, glanced into the window of the restaurant they were passing. ‘Um. Actually I am kinda hungry…’ she admitted and smiled. The suggestion had pleased her. Partaking of meals together was a common occurrence in human courtships Spock recalled. His irritation faded infinitesimally.

He gestured across the street. ‘There is a Deltan establishment nearby which I have found to be satisfactory.’

She nodded in agreement, still smiling. ‘Who doesn’t love Deltan?’ she asked in what Spock recognised as a ‘rhetorical’ question and therefore did not answer.

The restaurant was quite crowded. Deltan food, as the Cadet had inferred, was popular amidst the humanoid races of the Federation, especially Terrans. The Cadet ordered in fluent Deltan Prime. The server seemed pleased to be able to converse in his native tongue and engaged in extraneous conversation when interacting with her. Spock attempted not to become unduly agitated by this fact.

When the server returned with their meals he lingered at their table to engage in further pointless, flirtatious, conversation with her. Despite his attempts to ignore the man, Spock found himself becoming increasingly irritated. He disliked the Cadet conversing with another male, especially a Deltan. Their race was fixated upon sensation and pleasure. Whilst it meant their elaborate meals were particularly satisfying to most humanoid palates, they were also notoriously open with their sexuality. A trait Spock did not wish to be reminded of where Nyota Uhura was concerned.

 _‘I will prepare a special dessert for you.’_ the server was offering in his native tongue.

Nyota smiled but shook her head. _‘That’s very kind of you, but we’re just having a quick meal.’_

She was being unnecessarily friendly to the man in Spock’s opinion. His interest was obvious.

 _‘Oh but you must try this! Yuzel berries imported from the valleys of Forn on Delta IV -’_ The bald man waved a dismissive hand, _‘- nothing replicated – and baked into the lightest, most delicate of cakes.’_ He paused and gave the cadet a look that was blatantly suggestive. _‘But with a sensual richness deeply satisfying to all the senses.’_

Yuzel berries were a mild intoxicant and purportedly a powerful aphrodisiac. Spock restrained the urge to tell the man to leave and pointedly began eating his meal, hoping he would take the hint.

He did not.

Nyota continued to smile as she replied. _‘That sounds wonderful, I’ll be sure and come again and try it but-’_  Spock gritted his teeth at her encouraging manner and her promise to return to the establishment and try this Deltan man’s ridiculous dessert, which was clearly a euphemism for sex.

 _‘A sweet, lingering finish to an evening is one of life’s greatest pleasures.’_ the Deltan interrupted. He had turned his back upon Spock, cutting him out of the conversation. The true meaning of his words was obvious. Spock realised he was glaring at the back of the man’s bald head and forcibly smoothed his expression. ‘ _Just because your Vulcan doesn’t eat… dessert… doesn’t mean you should miss out.’_

Spock met Nyota’s eyes and raised an eyebrow to wordlessly indicate his displeasure at the man’s behaviour. To his consternation she appeared to find the exchange _amusing._ Was she actually considering some sort of liaison with this man? Spock was aware that humans could be quite free with their sexual associations, but he thought he had made it _abundantly_ clear that he would allow no such thing.

She bit her lip and nudged his foot with her own under the table. He did not understand her meaning. Was this an elaborate human joke? At whose expense? His or the Deltan’s? He realised his respiration had increased slightly and calmed it to its usual levels.

 _‘Perhaps you will let me take you out for a proper Deltan meal? With a Deltan dessert.’_ the server continued, his voice lowering.

Spock was gripping his fork with far more force than necessary to keep the implement steady within his grasp.

Turning from him to face the server again Nyota replied. _‘That’s a very tempting offer, however -’_

 _'Deltans don’t need to touch a person to use their telepathy.'_ the Deltan interrupted her. The man turned and gave Spock a duplicitous smile, clearly unaware that Spock understood what he was saying, before focusing his attention back upon Nyota. Undoubtedly the man thought Spock under the impression he was discussing the weather or other such meaningless 'small talk' with his female.  _‘Whatever pleasures your Vulcan has shared with you would pale in comparison to the sublime heights a Deltan lover could show you.’_

Nyota pressed a hand to her mouth and gave the server a shocked look. Spock was uncertain if her displeasure was at what the Deltan was saying or that the fact that _he_ was present and cognizant of it. She had said his offer was ‘tempting’. Had she come here alone, would she even now be agreeing to sample much more than his idiotic dessert? Spock’s breathing was accelerated again. As was his heart-rate. He recognised the signs, and the feeling trying to force him into action.

_Anger._

He was angry.

At both the server and Nyota Uhura. The metal fork was digging into the flesh of his palm almost painfully. He placed it down upon the table because he was suddenly tempted to impale the Deltan’s hand with it. It would not be difficult to pin him to the table with the utensil. Nyota was looking at him with a furrow in her brows, a human facial expression indicating concern. For him? Or fear at his reaction to her behaviour? His jaw muscles were beginning to ache from clenching his teeth.

‘Spock?’

She reached across the table towards him. Spock looked down at her slim brown hand where it came to rest 4.2cms to the left of his glass of water. She wore a delicate golden ring on her index finger with a dark red stone. Corundum coloured with chromium most likely. Yon-ek'zer. A  _ruby_ in the Terran vernacular. Her fingernails were painted a darker shade of the same colour. He blinked. It was gesture of concern. His mother had often taken his hand to offer comfort or support. Spock deduced the cadet’s concern was _for_ him. That calmed him slightly. Perhaps he was over-reacting. Perhaps she was merely being polite. Perhaps she had absolutely no interest in the Deltan and –

The server reached down and wrapped his pale fingers around Nyota’s, lifting her limp hand from the table.

Nyota’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked from Spock and up at the Deltan. The Deltan said something, but Spock could not decipher the alien syntax over the deafening roaring noise in his ear. He was suddenly standing. His chair overturned. He found it gratifying to discover he was approximately 8cms taller than the server. Somehow, he found the strength to speak rather than act.

‘Release her immediately.’ he demanded.

The Deltan blinked. ‘What?’

Nyota was tugging at her arm. ‘Let me go. _Now.’_ she implored the server. The man looked down at where he gripped her hand and frowned before releasing her. Nyota stood and stepped to the side, away from the Deltan. She met Spock’s gaze with an expression of fear marring her features. Spock glared at the Deltan but restrained the urge to strike him for his insult. For propositioning _his_ female right in front of him. For _touching_ her.

He looked past the man and at Nyota. _‘Attend.’_ he ordered her in Vuhlkansu, extending the index and middle finger of his right hand towards her. She blinked and for a moment was motionless, but then acquiesced, stepping to his side and hesitantly pressing fingers against his, looking up at him with wide dark eyes. Fear and a nervous human excitement thrummed through his fingertips. He led her from the establishment, their meals untouched on the table.

She was silent as they made the short walk to his apartment building. Spock tried to calm himself, but his agitation seemed only to increase. Her fear and anxiety did nothing to reassure him. Halfway there he found he could not abide her simply pressing her fingers against his - it did not seem secure enough - she could simply pull away from him and he could not allow that. Accordingly, he shifted his grip so that his fingers closed around her wrist in a firm grip. She stood very close to him the turbolift as they made their way to his floor. He restrained the urge to press himself against her, mark her with his scent. The doors opened with a chime. His long strides were slightly awkward for her to match and he half dragged her along the corridor to his doorway.

He disengaged the lock and pulled her inside.

For a moment he was still. The apartment’s lights had come on automatically, a low, red-spectrum light comfortable to Vulcan senses. Nyota stood motionlessly beside him, staring at him with wide eyes. She no longer looked fearful, she looked… He could not decipher her confusing human facial expression.

Now that he was alone with her his control slipped. He pulled her against him and pressed his forehead to hers, rolling his head on his shoulders as he rubbed himself against her. Her breath stuttered against his skin in warm puffs and she pressed herself into him in a gratifying manner. He tucked her into his hold, pressed his face into her neck and inhaled the scent of her skin greedily. She had healed the marks he’d left on her a week previously with a dermal regenerator. The urge to renew them welled powerfully inside him. She was _his_. His female. She had said as much, but she had also smiled and flirted. Let another touch her. _Again._

He was clenching his teeth, could hear them groaning in his skull.

His grip on her tightened slightly.

He tried to be rational, to calm himself.

When last he had felt this possessive anger, he had frightened her.

It took a lot of effort but he shoved it down and spoke instead of succumbing to his primitive instincts. He pulled back slightly and looked down at her.

 _‘Explain.’_ he demanded in his native tongue, standard too much of an effort.

She frowned and he recognised her confusion. _‘Explain what Spock?’_ she asked quietly, still pressing herself against him.

Spock took a long breath through his nose. _‘You allowed another to touch you.’_

 _‘I didn’t **want** him to touch me…’_ she insisted, as if she had not been flirting with the man for several minutes prior to the incident.

 _‘You encouraged his attentions.’_ he said.

Her frown was deeper now, her body stiffening. _‘No I did not. I made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t interested.’_

Her words angered Spock. How easily she lied. _‘When he offered you a dessert laced with an aphrodisiac, an obvious euphuism, you said, “That sounds wonderful, I’ll be sure and come again and try it.”. When -’_

She was blinking rapidly. _‘That’s not what I meant!’_ she interrupted. _'And what "aphrodisiac" are you talking -'_

Spock tightened his grip up her and pulled her closer to him. _‘Be silent!’_ he demanded.

She inhaled sharply and froze in his grip.

‘ _When he offered to take you out for a meal and made another veiled reference to sex, you informed him that his offer was “tempting”.’_ he continued.

She gasped in apparent outrage and struggled against his grip. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it!’ she replied in standard.

‘What do I know?’ Spock inquired. ‘That you did not mean what you said? I know that you appeared reluctant to leave the Academy campus to interact with me in a social context, I know that you intend to return to the Deltan restaurant specifically to partake of a cake laced with a potent aphrodisiac and I know that you find the thought of sharing said meal and _dessert_ with the Deltan server at that establishment to be _tempting_.’

Nyota was glaring at him, breathing heavily. She was angry. Spock found it strangely compelling. He shifted closer still, their bodies melded together. He could smell her exotic Terran perfume. He recognised the scent. It was the same fragrance she always wore. He resisted the urge to kiss her, bite her, shake her. ‘You have no right to be indignant, all I have said is accurate. Vulcans do not lie.’ he said.

‘Maybe not, but they can be really stupid!’ she proclaimed loudly.

‘You do not deny this? I forgave your previous indiscretion owing to your ignorance, but you agreed to be mine. I had thought I had made the ramifications of our association abundantly clear.’ He was battling the urge to remind her in precisely the same manner as he had on that previous occasion.

‘Let go of me.’ she demanded in a low voice.

‘No.’ Spock replied. He would not be letting go of her until she had either reassured him entirely that she was his, or he’d demonstrated the same.

‘You’re overreacting!’ she hissed. She was still glaring at him, her expression one of anger, however her heart-rate was accelerated and Spock recalled that excitement he’d felt from her earlier. He narrowed his eyes. A disturbing thought occurred to him.

‘You find it _gratifying_ to provoke me.’ he accused her.

‘I. Do. Not!’ she insisted indignantly.

Spock ran his hand up along her back and cupped the base of her skull. Her eyelids dipped slightly and her breathing paused for a moment. He leant down towards her, his face so close to hers that he could feel the heat of her skin against him. He was no longer observing just indicators of anger in her. Her eyes dropped to his lips for a second. Through the hazy press of his fingers he felt her desire to kiss him. He tightened his grip on her and tilted her head up towards his own so that their foreheads pressed together once more. He felt her stuttered breath warm against his cheek and her heart beating wildly against his chest. Her body went soft.

‘You lie.’ he said.

She stiffened again and started to protest but he swallowed her illogical denials with a kiss. She made an indignant noise and refused to open her lips to him, turning her face from his. Spock pulled back and glared at her. She had no right to refuse him, no cause to be angered by him, it was _she_ who had behaved inappropriately, not he.

‘Stop it! You can’t just… _kiss_ me!’ she insisted, but she did not sound as angered as she had moments earlier.

‘You are mine. Mine to kiss if I so desire.’ he said.

She blinked. ‘Saying that doesn’t just make it okay for you to do whatever the hell you want Spock!’ She narrowed her eyes and continued in a low voice. ‘I’m only _yours_ as long I say I am.’ For the moment perhaps that was true. But if he made her his in truth, bound her to him, she would belong to him indefinitely. Her denials would mean nothing.

Spock stared down at her intently. Her human stubbornness astounded him, she even lied to herself, pretended she did not enjoy the feel of his body pressed close against her, of this demeaning display of his _jealousy._ He took her hand in his and slid his fingers against hers. She gasped and her head jerked slightly as he pressed his mind against hers. He felt her anger, but also her lust. He did not try to kiss her mouth, instead he pressed his lips to her cheek, her jaw, the soft skin below her left ear. When he scraped his teeth against the skin of her neck she made a whining noise and he felt an exhilarating burst of fear buried in a wave of burning anticipation and lust.

 _‘I feel your desire. You want me to mark you.’_ he said, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke. He felt her reaction to his words, both their meaning and that he spoke in his native tongue. She remained stubbornly silent but he heard her agreement in his mind regardless. _Yesyesyesyes yours._

 _‘If you ask me in an appropriately contrite manner, perhaps I will.’_ he remarked pulling back to look down at her.

Her eyes narrowed once more. _‘I will not.’_ she replied indignantly. Hearing such anger, such emotion, expressed in Vuhlkansu was novel, thrilling.

 _‘You will.’_ Spock promised her.

She gave him a glare of such intensity and he felt such animosity from her, such clear bright anger, that Spock was momentarily taken aback. Before he had time to process her volatile emotional response, she had pressed her lips to his and kissed him. It was not a brief salute intended to shock him, though it left him completely confounded before he gave up trying to understand entirely.

She kissed him with her entire body. She stood on her toes and curled her tongue into his mouth and pressed her soft body firmly against him, her hips rotating slowly in movements calculated to entice. The fingers he gripped in his hand began to twist and rub against him, eliciting little shocks of psi energy as telepathic connections flared along his nerves. Her other hand was shoved into his hair as she adjusted the angle of their kiss to her satisfaction.

Heat washed over Spock in a great consuming wave. He forgot his anger. He wanted her with a sudden fierceness that swamped all other thoughts. His lok throbbed demandingly and he ground against her, longing for the tight heat of her body, but unwilling to stop kissing her, touching her. 

She wrapped a leg around him and he felt the promise of her body pressed against him. Without conscious thought on the matter he crowded her towards the wall and wrapped a hand around her thigh so he could increase the pressure with which their bodies were pressed together. He could feel her, soft and warm, through their clothing, could smell her arousal. He heard a noise and realised that he had groaned.

Nyota drew back and stared up at him, panting softly. ‘Are you going to fuck me in the hall or take me to bed Spock?’

Her tone was confrontational, her words unnecessarily crude, but Spock found they affected him, made a strange nervous thrill run through his body. He had an illogical desire to respond in the affirmative to both suggestions. Instead he picked her up and carried her to his bedroom. She wrapped her legs around him, kissed him and in general proved to be thoroughly distracting. The short journey took several minutes and by the time he deposited her roughly upon the low mattress, she was dressed in only her underwear, black undershirt and her left boot. He had lost his jacket at some point but could not recall precisely.

He stripped off the rest of his uniform rapidly, staring down at her all the while. An irrational part of him was worried she might run if he turned away even for a moment. She kicked off her remaining piece of footwear and pulled her shirt over her head. Her white Terran style undergarments contrasted pleasingly with her dark skin, but Spock did not mourn their loss when she removed them. Her body was, after all, exceedingly attractive.

She reached up and pulled her hair from its bindings, running her fingers along her scalp and freeing the strands from her hairstyle. The flowery scent of her shampoo hit him in a wave and he was stuck with a powerful memory of her soft hair hanging down around her face as she moved above him during one of their encounters on Kolari. He recalled the exact sensation of the silken strands brushing against his skin. Abruptly Spock found himself on top of her, a hand twisted in the long cool length of it turning her face to the side so he could bury her face in the sweet smelling silken mass. It was precisely as soft as he recalled.

She sighed and shifted beneath him, her body rearranging itself to accommodate him. One of her legs wrapped around his thighs, aligning their bodies and wordlessly indicating her desire for him. He found that now he had her naked and beneath him he was in no particular hurry however. He wished to explore her cool, sweet-smelling body, reacquaint himself with her thoroughly. When he had last had her he had done little more than kiss her, had not even gotten to look at her. He intended to rectify that situation. Also, he had implied that she would beg for him to mark her, and since Vulcans did not lie…

He spent several minutes in thoroughly enjoyable exploration of her neck, shoulders and breasts. By the time he pressed his mouth in turns to the hollows beside her hip bones she was wriggling and becoming increasingly vocal in her agitation. Her desire was immensely… satisfying. It improved his mood by such an extent that when she tugged at his hair and said -‘Spock, please, kiss me.’ - he stretched out above her and did as she requested.

Her kisses were deep and passionate, her cool human hands running over all of his body that she could reach as her mouth moved greedily against his. She had one hand gripped in his hair and the other caressing his face when she bit his bottom lip quite unexpectedly, and _hard._

Spock jerked in response, pulling back slightly in surprise even as a heated wave of lust throbbed through his body at her aggressiveness. She regarded him darkly for a moment and then pulled at him roughly, her grip on his jaw suddenly steely. He thought she intended to kiss him again, but then her head ducked too low and off to the side. Blunt human teeth dug into the meat of his shoulder. _Very_ hard. The intensity of his response to her action was shocking even to him.

She made a choked noise, her breath exhaling in a huff against him as he grabbed her hip and shoved himself inside her in one long forceful thrust. Her head rolled back and her back arched with that initial movement. The tight heat of her was just as pleasurable as he recalled and the knowledge that he was the only one who had ever had her still intoxicating. He had bitten her before he even knew he wanted to. She moaned loudly, a low, drawn out noise that he found exceedingly satisfactory as her fingers dug into his back and shoulders. He could feel her lustful, _smug_ satisfaction vaguely through his fingertips. It wasn’t enough. He grabbed her left hand and pressed his mind as close to hers as possible as he took her. Even then, it was not truly satisfying. The urge to join their minds in a full meld beat at him. But he could not, so he took what he could, basked in it greedily, the reflection of her wild thoughts and vivid human emotions, everything, every twinge of pleasure and desire that she felt.

After their pleasure peaked he lay beside her for a long time, feeling slightly dazed. He was on his back with Nyota’s body was pressed close to him, one long dark leg draped over his. Her fingers were wrapped around his and he could feel her satisfaction and again, that _smugness._ It was new, not something he had felt from her before.

‘What is this odd pride I feel in you?’ he inquired.

She raised herself beside him, resting her chin on her right hand and smirked at him. ‘You bit me.’ she responded quite cryptically, the prideful feeling increasing and mixing with amusement.

‘Hardly unusual behaviour for one of my species.’ he replied slightly defensively.

‘Ah, but you were adamant that I would have to beg you. I did nothing of the sort.’ she continued.

So that was the source of the feeling. She took illogical human pride in proving him incorrect. Just as she had taken enjoyment from arousing his jealousy earlier with her behaviour at the restaurant. She could not be more blatantly his – she was lying naked in his bed with his mark on her neck and his seed inside her, but he found thoughts of her earlier conversation with the Deltan still twisted him inside. His eidetic memory repeated the entire interaction in his head.

Nyota sat up completely and stared down at him, her head tilted to one side, frowning. The pleasure and satisfaction he’d felt from her moments ago gone. ‘You _can’t_ still be hung up on that waiter.’ she said.

‘You have not justified your behaviour in a manner I find satisfactory.’ Spock admitted.

She glared and him and pulled her hand from his to cross her arms across her breasts. The sudden loss of mental contact was disorientating and unpleasant. ‘What’s to explain?’ she asked, her tone irritated. ‘I _politely_ but very clearly I assure you, implied that I was not interested. He just couldn’t take a hint. I wasn’t encouraging him.’ At Spock’s silence she pursed her lips and continued. ‘I wasn’t _flirting_ with him and I _certainly_ wasn’t trying to make you jealous.’

‘Just as you were not attempting to make me jealous when you allowed a stranger to mark you?’ Spock inquired scathingly.

‘What?!’ She looked honestly confused, but Spock was perfectly aware that she was capable of such deviousness. She had after all, just bitten him purely so she could lord a perceived weakness in his control over him. ‘You can’t honestly believe that can you? I mean…’ she made a vague gesture with her hand. ‘I’d never even _been_ with another man before you, and you think I’m some sort of vindictive,’ she paused again apparently at a loss for an appropriate word, ‘ _scarlet woman_ or something!’

‘Scarlet woman?’ Spock inquired in confusion.

She huffed. ‘ _Whore.’_ she clarified pointedly.

Clearly he had offended her. He attempted to describe more accurately the source of his displeasure at her behaviour. ‘That is inaccurate. I do not think of you in such a manner, however I do not appreciate you intentionally provoking me.’

She glared at him silently for a period of 9 seconds before she closed her eyes and took a long slow breath through her nose. ‘Stop it. Please.’ she said in a calmer tone of voice.

He was uncertain of what she referred to. ‘Explain.’ he demanded warily.

‘You’ve made it very clear that I shouldn’t judge you as a human Spock. Well, do me the same courtesy. Don’t judge me as a Vulcan.’ she said.

‘Your illogical behaviour renders such confusion impossible.’ Spock replied. ‘A Vulcan woman would never behave in such a manner.’

She pursed her lips, her expression angry once more. ‘If you find my behaviour so illogical and distasteful I think I’ll just leave.’ She slid to the side of the bed and stood with her back to him.

Spock blinked. ‘I do not find you distasteful. I did not say that.’

‘You certainly _implied_ it.’ she insisted as she began picking up pieces of her discarded clothing and holding them against her body to conceal her nakedness.

Spock was uncertain what they were now arguing about. ’What are you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ she asked sarcastically.

‘It would appear that you are gathering your clothing in preparation to leave rather than resolve this conflict.’ he observed.

She shot him a dark look. ‘How astute.’ she replied scathingly. When she entered the bathroom that adjoined his bedroom, she shut the door far more forcefully than necessary.

Spock stared at the door for 27 seconds before rising and pulling his trousers back on.

She emerged 3.7 minutes looking dishevelled - dressed only in her underwear and undershirt and with her hair loose. ‘I’m leaving.’ she informed him.

‘I can see that.’ Spock said. ‘I do not understand why. I would prefer we resolve this… disagreement.’

‘You don’t want to resolve anything Spock.’ she said. ‘You’re angry about something I didn’t even do. We’re fighting over some ridiculous perceived insult to your male ego. You just want me to apologise.’

Her words angered him. He crossed the room to stand in front of her. ‘If I have misinterpreted your actions, you need only explain them.’ he replied trying to keep his voice calm and even. He was not successful.

‘I _tried_ but you aren’t listening!’ she insisted before spinning on her heel and stalking from the room.

Spock was forced to follow her through the apartment as she collected the rest of clothing. By the time she stopped in the living room to awkwardly pull on her right boot, hopping on one foot as she did so, she was fully dressed. Ignoring him she fastened her jacket and smoothed her hair.

Spock was at a loss as to what to say to diffuse the situation. She shot him one last look before heading towards the front door.

He stepped forward and grabbed her arm. She jerked to a stop and looked back at him. ‘Don’t.’ she said.

‘I do not understand.’ 

She tugged at his hand and gestured wildly with the other. ‘Well I don’t know how I can explain it any clearer!’

Spock tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her against him. It took little effort. She was human after all, far weaker than he. She huffed in irritation and shoved her free hand between them to push against his chest.

‘You can’t just grab me and _make me_ do what you want Spock. I want to leave.’ she hissed.

‘I simply wish to understand what is occurring.’ Spock insisted. He knew he was speaking louder than necessary given their relative proximity, but could not modulate his voice.

She closed her eyes for several seconds, sighing again. ‘You’ve offended me Spock, and I’m angry at you. I don’t want to be around you right now okay?’ She shifted, her fingers digging into his chest as she tried to push herself away from him.

 _He_ had offended her? She was one arranging to meet Deltan men for ‘dessert’ right in front of him. He knew he was glaring at her but didn’t bother to smooth his expression. ‘Attempting to understand you is exhausting.’ he spat.

When she twisted in renewed attempt to free herself he released her. She stumbled backwards and braced herself with a hand against the wall to keep from falling over.

She sneered at him before triggering his door. ‘The feeling is mutual I assure you.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Nyota**

Nyota was still seething by the time she made it back to her dorm.

It was well after curfew but her room-mate was still up. As Nyota entered their room Gaila looked up in interest from where she was perched on her bed in her underwear, or more accurately - lingerie. It was a lacy set and there wasn’t much of it. A stylus held her red curls in a haphazard topknot on top of her head. It was an odd look for a woman who appeared to be in the midst of reassembling a mid-sized communicator console. Gaila was a curious mix of nerd and shameless nymphomaniac. She put down the tap lever she’d been holding and regarded Nyota critically.

‘You fucked the Vulcan again.’ she deduced.

‘And I’m already regretting it.’ Nyota replied. It was hard enough trying to keep your sex life from a room-mate. When that room-mate was your best friend and Orion to boot, there was no point in even trying. Gaila was painfully aware of exactly who Nyota found attractive on campus, she could detect sex pheromones at fifty paces.

‘What did he do this time? Tie you up?’ Gaila asked.

‘ _No._ He’s just… a jerk.’ Nyota replied pulling off her earrings and slapping them down on her dresser with more force than necessary.

‘Ah. It was going fine until he opened his big Vulcan mouth and stuck his foot in it?’ her friend guessed.

‘Something like that.’ Nyota said. ‘He’s so… ugh!' There weren't even _words_ for what Spock was. 'One minute he’s all over me, being incredibly sexy and the next he’s this arrogant, insulting, _rude_ , belittling –‘

‘Whoa whoa.’ Gaila interrupted. ‘You’re the one that’s always telling me how “Commander Spock’s just misunderstood. He’s not _really_ a priggish ass it’s just because he’s Vulcan that he seems that way.” You wouldn’t shut up about how helpful he was when you were working on your junior thesis. How polite and easy to work with he was.’

Nyota sighed. She had said all those things. They were true. ‘He’s different. It’s like there was this whole other part of him I had no idea existed.’

‘And _that_ part of him, these hidden depths of the misunderstood and maligned Commander Spock, is a priggish ass?' Gaila asked sarcastically. 'Not the _charming_ façade we see day to day?’ 

‘He accused me of hitting on our waiter. Wouldn’t believe me when I said I was just being polite.’

Gaila raised an eyebrow. ‘Your _waiter?_ ’ she frowned. ‘Wait, he took you out to dinner? Like on a date? I thought you two were just fucking?’

'We aren’t doing _anything_ right now.’ Nyota replied. ‘I’m not sure I want to keep seeing him.’

Gaila snorted. ‘ _Sure_ you don’t.’

Nyota shot her an irritated glare. ‘Just because I’m… _attracted_ –‘

‘Obsessed.’ Gaila corrected.

 _‘ -_ to him doesn’t mean I should keep seeing him.’ She continued ignoring her friend’s interruption. ‘It’s going to end in disaster. We can hardly have a civil conversation.’ She pulled off her jacket and tossed it in the refresher unit. ‘About all we’re good at is arguing and having sex.’ she mumbled and started stripping off her uniform. _Great_ sex. But that wasn’t enough to make up for all the other crap Spock had been piling on her. She'd never been so stressed in her entire life than she'd been since their trip to Kolari. She felt like she was going mad.

Gaila leered. ‘Sounds hot.’ She looked at Nyota’s shoulder and smirked. ‘He bit you again?’

Nyota glanced at the welt on her shoulder and blushed as she recalled the circumstances of its creation.

‘Ooohhh you like it when your Vulcan goes all alpha on you don’t you Ny? Maybe you _should_ let him tie you up.’

‘Thanks Gai. Great advice.’ Nyota muttered.

‘Hey! It might help him with those trust issues.’ Gaila replied evenly. ‘You won’t be able to run away with any waiters if he’d got you tied up in bed.’

‘Ugh. The waiter. Deltans can be so…’

‘Fabulous in bed? Unbelievably sexy?’ Gaila guessed.

‘Sleezy.’ Nyota concluded.

‘Until very recently you were a 23 year old virgin and your only sexual partner is a _Vulcan._ You think _everyone_ is sleezy.’

Nyota pouted.

‘Mind you, if a Deltan was putting the moves on you I don’t blame the Commander for getting nervous.’  Gaila continued with a dreamy sigh. ‘It’s hard to say no to a Deltan.’ She shot Nyota a look. ‘Hard to understand why you’d _want_ to say no to a Deltan.’

 

* * *

 Nyota was still undecided as to how to handle the ‘Spock situation’ when she awoke the next morning. She was distracted during her Tuesday morning classes and even more uncomfortable during her afternoon lecture, since Spock was her teacher. To her mingled irritation and relief he made no attempt to seek her out.

Wednesday passed in a similar manner. Nyota wondered if Spock intended to just go back to ignoring her, he’d managed to do so for two months after the trip to Kolari after all.

On Thursday she couldn’t bring herself to go to his office for her scheduled TA duties. Instead she left campus and spent a few hours wandering around town. She turned off her communicator.

She was in love, or at least, she’d _thought_ she was in love, with Spock. But she'd never been in love before, maybe she was just confused. She didn’t have a lot of experience in the matter. She’d been a 'late bloomer' as her mother put it. In high school she'd been completely oblivious to boys and she’d only dated a few guys in college. What she felt for Spock felt different to what she’d felt for them, it was much more powerful. But the more she got to know him, the more she questioned what she was doing. It had all seemed terribly romantic on Kolari, when he’d touched her hand and she’d felt his desire with her mind. _Feeling_ his thoughts, his mind, was an intoxicating and almost… magical sensation. She could forgive herself for falling for it, for being overwhelmed. She was only human. And later, he’d been so… _ardent_ almost _desperate_ in his lust for her. It had been thrilling to see her perfectly cool Vulcan instructor so undone, seemingly because of her.

At no point over the course of the night or the following day, time she’d spent exclusively in his company, did she feel anything like love from him, but she’d been resigned to that fact already. He was Vulcan. They didn’t ‘fall in love’. She’d wanted him enough to accept that, to accept that her feelings for him would be unreciprocated. She felt a burst of shame and self-loathing. After waiting so long, telling herself she wasn’t going to jump into bed with a man unless he loved and respected her, she’d done the exactly opposite. And it was she that had done the inviting. She _knew_ Spock didn’t love her and yet she’d let him have sex with her, repeatedly, been _grateful_ and felt _privileged_ to do so. It made her feel ill. Pathetic.

And then he’d blown her off like it was nothing before changing his mind and… _attacking_ her. Claimed her as ‘his’. _His_. His what? His own personal sex toy? His pet human?

She clenched her jaw.

Sure she’d felt some change in him, some sort of affection that hadn’t been there on Kolari, but mostly all she’d felt was violent possessiveness. Admittedly it was something of a turn on, but it was a far cry from ‘love and respect’.

She was acting like one of those simpering girls that chased Kirk around. Let him cheat on them and treat them like garbage but still keep coming back for more.

 She shouldn’t have agreed to keep seeing Spock. There was no future for them and pretending there could be was just prolonging the agony.

* * *

 

**Spock**

Nyota Uhura did not come to their scheduled meeting on Thursday. Her communicator went unanswered. Her room-mate informed him that she was not in their dorm. He deduced that she was avoiding him. An immature response to their disagreement.

At 07:18 hours on Friday Professor Jones, the Xenolinguists Department Head, visited him in his office.

‘Commander. Glad I caught you.’ the middle-aged human remarked.

‘Professor Jones.’ Spock greeted him. ‘May I be of assistance?’

The Professor screwed up his face in an unattractive manner and made an unpleasant sucking noise with his mouth. ‘Bit awkward, but I need to have a chat with you about your TA. Uhura isn’t it?’

Spock felt a tingle of nervousness. Perhaps someone had reported suspected inappropriate interactions between himself and the Cadet? Such a thing was not entirely unexpected. His behaviour with her had been both illogical and highly reckless. They had engaged in sexual congress in the very office he and Professor Jones now stood in. He found himself glancing at the desk he'd pushed her against.

‘Cadet Uhura is indeed my Teaching Aide.’ He agreed.

Jones made a ‘hmm’ noise Spock interpreted as displeasure. ‘She came and saw me last night, asked to be reassigned. Said she couldn’t work with you anymore.’ He looked at Spock speculatively. ‘Was quite adamant about it too.’

Spock restrained the urge to frown at Nyota Uhura’s continually frustrating and illogical behaviour. He offered no comment to the Professor.

‘I was a bit surprised to be honest. Cadet Uhura seemed to like working with you. You were one of the advisors on her junior thesis weren’t you?’ he inquired.

‘That is correct.’

‘So what happened? Some… disagreement between you two?’

It was an accurate statement. ‘We have disagreed on several matters recently.’ he admitted.

‘Figured as much.’ the Professor replied. ‘Look, if I have to reassign Uhura I’ll have to switch several TA placements around to get someone with the right workload and a suitable schedule. Can you try and make peace with Uhura? I’m sure she’s blown something out of proportion.’

‘I had hoped to resolve our… disagreement at our scheduled appointment yesterday, however the Cadet did not attend and would not answer her communicator.’

The Professor frowned. ‘Wouldn’t have thought Uhura would carry on like that. Always seemed like she had a good head on her shoulders.’ The man glanced at the timepiece strapped to his wrist. The wearing of a chronometer upon the arm was an ancient Terran affectation. Their species were not able to track time in the manner of a his own. ‘Look, try and sort it out with her and let me know one way or the other.’

‘Very well Professor.’ Spock replied.

Nyota Uhura continued her attempts at avoiding him during the classes he taught. She did not participate in any of the class activities and made no inquires of him. Spock was unperturbed. When he dismissed the tutorial group he simply instructed her to remain behind. She could not disobey him in front of her classmates and so she remained, scowling, as they filed out of the room.

‘What?’ she snapped.

‘Professor Jones has bade me ‘make peace’ with you Cadet Uhura.’ he replied.

She blinked. ‘He spoke to you?’

‘Naturally. He was most surprised by your seemingly sudden request for reassignment.’

She pursed her lips but offered no response.

‘I assume this is a result of our disagreement on Monday evening.’ he surmised.

Nyota crossed her arms in a confrontational manner. ‘I have decided I no longer wish to associate with you in any context beyond the professional and therefore continuing to act as your TA seems like a bad idea.’

Spock clenched his jaw but managed to restrain other indications of his irritation. ‘I assume this is a further attempt to provoke an emotional reaction in me for your own gratification.’

‘No. It’s not.’ She glared at him. ‘So don’t grab me or anything.’

Spock found himself glaring right back. He did indeed have a powerful urge to pull her into his arms and shake her. Perhaps kiss her…

‘Why must you be so argumentative? Prior to the commencement of our personal interactions you were one of the more logical of the humans of my acquaintance.’

‘Oh _my_ behaviour’s changed.’ she remarked snidely. ‘What about you? Paranoid and violent.’

‘I have already admitted to finding my emotional control lax in concern to you.’ he grit out, balling his hands into fists.

‘Which is why you should be agreeing with me that this thing between us isn’t working and we should quit while we’re ahead. You can find some other human to play around with when you’re bored and I’ll find myself someone who actually _likes_ me.’

She flinched and made a high pitched yelping noise. Spock belatedly realised that he had thrown the PADD in his hand across the room with enough force to embed it into the wall near the door. He stared at it in shock. He had not experienced such a disturbing break in his control for many years.

Nyota Uhura was staring at him in shock and fear.

He knew it was an entirely inappropriate response, but a part of his was pleased at her fear. He stalked across the room towards her. She backed away from him, her eyes wide, but there was nowhere for her to go, the exit would require her to walk past him.

‘Spock! Don’t!’

He ignored her and  cornered her against the wall. She shoved at him, twisted in his hold, but she so much weaker than he, her defiance was illogical. There was no point to it. He effortlessly captured her arms and wedged a leg between hers so that she was pinned to the wall.

‘I don’t want to do this anymore!’ she hissed. Her eyes were narrowed slightly now, her fear tempered by her bright human anger. He wanted to feel it, feel her thrilling human emotions, but he restrained the urge to twist his fingers against hers. He had a more urgent need. He needed to kiss her. He caught her lips for a moment, warm and soft, but she turned away.

‘Stop it!’

She would not kiss him? Who was she to deny him? Black anger threatened to overwhelm him. She tormented him, took delight in his weakness. Somehow she had destroyed years of mental discipline and training and turned him into a screaming petulant adolescent. He wanted to shake her, yell at her. Instead he leant forward and pressed his face into the crook of her neck and closed his eyes, trying to calm his anger at her, his need of her.

It was a singularly illogical idea. Her scent engulfed him. Sweet Terran perfume, flowery shampoo and the soft tempting scent of her skin. His anger faded but his need of her certainly did not. The soft line of her body was pressed against him in a warm tempting blur of curves and cool human skin. Her breath was coming in slightly uneven pants and her heart beat with aching human slowness, like the beating of a drum, against the hollow of his chest. He rubbed his face against her even as she twisted and tried to get away from him. She turned her face away from him so Spock could not kiss her, so instead he pressed his mouth to her jaw, her cheek, the long line of her neck.

When he traced the curious round shell of her ear with his lips she shivered. When he lightly bit she swallowed thickly. Spock noted that she had softened in his hold, gone almost limp against him. He drew back to meet her gaze.

‘What are you _doing?’_ she asked in a pained voice.

What was he doing? She would not kiss him so he was left pathetically rubbing himself against her, marking her body with his scent. He could almost see it clinging to her skin like hazy fog in that ultra violet spectrum that humans were blind too. It was a mark no human would notice, but one no Vulcan would miss. An empty gesture on this campus where he was alone.

‘I am attempting to “make peace” with you as per Professor Jones instructions.’ he offered.

She huffed. ‘Let me go. Agree to stop… _this_ and I’ll tell him you tried, that the problem is me not you.’

Spock frowned, not understanding her offer. ‘Why would I agree to such a thing?’

‘Since you are obviously worried about your position, what Professor Jones thinks of you.’

She thought he was actually concerned about such a petty matter? She would hardly be the first student to complain about him and refuse to work with him. Humans were emotional, irrational creatures after all.

‘So? Do you agree?’ she asked.

‘The only agreement I want is yours - that you will cease intentionally aggravating me with your disrespectful and wilful behaviour.’

She pursed her lips. ‘It’s disrespectful to shove a woman up against a wall when she tells you _no_ Spock.’ Her voice was clipped and cold.

Spock ground his thigh against her and buried his face against her neck once more. ‘You _say_ one thing, but _think_ another entirely. It would be illogical to accept your lies as truth.’

‘You aren’t… you aren’t reading my thoughts. You don’t know!’ she protested.

He inhaled deeply. ‘That is so.’ Pressed the side of his face to hers. ‘But I feel your emotions, your _want_ of me.’ They seeped through her skin, warm and intoxicating. ‘You wish me to take you here, against this wall.’

Her heart rate had increased and she was twisting again, trying to free herself.

‘No I don’t.’ she insisted. ‘We’re in the middle of classroom! Anyone might walk in!’

‘And this excites you.’

Her eyes widened in shock at his declaration. It was a guess on his part, but one he was quite sure was perfectly accurate.

He lifted his thigh so the heat of her was tight against him. She inhaled sharply through her nose at the sensation.

  _‘I smell your desire. It calls to me.’_ he told her in his native tongue. She groaned in denial. He pulled at her hips so her body ground against him. Felt her breath stutter. _‘I wish to taste you.’_

‘C- Commander!’ Her vocalisation was highly confusing. She appeared both appalled and pleased by his words.

He found himself kissing her. She still would not open her mouth to him, turned her face away again. In frustration he released her left arm and gripped her neck firmly, holding her in place. She made noises of displeasure through her pursed lips and beat at him with her free hand, but Spock ignored her. He licked and bit at her full lips until she relented and kissed him back.

The change in her was sudden. The hand that had been hitting him pulled his hair and pressed him closer. The mouth that had refused him was insistent, seemingly attempting to consume him with lips and tongue. Her hips rolled and she rubbed herself against his thigh.

 ‘This is insane.’ she moaned into his kisses.

He agreed.

Regardless he found himself sliding his hand up her thigh and into her underwear. She was even more aroused, wetter, than he had anticipated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this continues directly off the last chapter and is basically porn, I'd highly recommend re-reading it.

**Nyota**

He _was_ insane. Deranged. Completely -

Her thoughts broke off as he pressed two long fingers inside her and she tried to stifle a groan at the sensation. She didn’t know what she was feeling. Yes she was turned on and – _fuck –_ she was hardly, hardly… _oh god what was he doing?_ She bit her lip found herself staring up at the ceiling of the small tutorial theatre high above her.

This had to be a dream. She couldn’t actually be letting someone, her _instructor_ at that, touch her in such a way in the middle of a classroom. But the heavy weight of Spock pressed against her and the alien heat of those long fingers buried inside her was disturbingly, terribly, _wonderfully_ real. He wasn’t even restraining her. He had one hand between her thighs, wedged inside her panties, and the other at her hip. She was grinding herself against his hand, his thigh, quite of her own volition. She was reckless with lust, only her fear, fear of getting caught, fear of Spock himself allowed her to keep even a slender grip on her wits.

‘Spock.’

Black eyes snapped up to hers. His cheeks were flushed green, his lips slightly parted and there was a slight furrow between the dark lines of those tempting Vulcan eyebrows of his. He was panting and a soft low noise was coming from somewhere deep in his chest. Nyota stared, thrilled and dumbfounded. Forgot to breathe. Forgot all reason. She felt like Semele. Seeing the truth of him revealed, seeing Spock stripped of his façade of logic and calm would surely cause her to burst into flame. He twisted fingers deep inside her and a tortured moan escaped her. Lust pulsed inside her like a mad living thing beating in her chest, pounding against her reason like it would crawl out of her ribcage. Her body spasmed around his fingers and he shuddered. She wanted him more than seemed possible, wanted him with a violence that was alien to her.

Instead of opening her mouth to say something sensible she shoved a hand into his hair and kissed him artlessly. His mouth slanted over hers roughly and he proceeded to more or less fuck her mouth, while his fingers did just that. The grip at her hip shifted and suddenly he had a hand in hers. The tingling snapping of his touch telepathy, the lust she felt from him, threatening to burn her insides out.

She could feel a shadow of his thoughts, his intentions. He was perfectly aware of how ill-advised their current location was, but had every intention of fucking her right where she stood. He wanted her with that same mindless need she’d just been overwhelmed by. It was more a compulsion than a desire. Somehow, with monumental effort, she managed to break their kiss. She took deep winded breaths and tried to calm her thoughts, but Spock’s hand was still plunging in and out of her body and his thoughts were still tingling and twisting against her mind.

He pressed the side of his face to hers, the heat of his skin almost uncomfortable. _Nyota_. She heard her name, heard his voice pitched low and strange, but only in her mind. It sent a hot flush through her and she was tempted, so tempted, to just go along with this. To let him –

He dropped to his knees and shoved her skirt up to her waist with one hand. Nyota gasped, the suddenness of the action helping clear her wits slightly, he couldn’t _actually_ intend to –

He pressed his mouth to her, through the soaked cotton of her panties. She was certain the noise she made would be audible to anyone waiting outside for a class. Her knees actually buckled and she nearly collapsed onto him. The shock helped her regain a little more control over her Vulcan induced… hormonal imbalance. Whatever it was Spock did that reduced her to a wet mess of moaning girl.

‘Spock!’ she hissed, pulling her hand from his to shove at him. She instantly felt more like herself as his maddening thoughts cleared from her mind. He glared up at her, actually _glared_ and made a low noise of warning that was most definitely a growl of some sort. She ignored it, she felt less insane now that his thoughts weren’t rubbing against her through his fingertips.

She tried to placate him. ‘We can’t do this here!’

He didn’t respond, just grabbed her arse and shoved his face against her crotch, inhaled deeply. It was crude and it shouldn’t have excited her, but she found herself swallowing around a suddenly dry throat. The warning sting of her panties digging in along the seams jarred her into action once more. Spock would have no qualms tearing them off her she knew and she wasn’t sure how long her will power would last if he did. She pulled at his hair roughly, kneed him ineffectually in the chest and shoved him as hard as she could in the shoulder. He stumbled backwards to sprawl along the grey carpet.

She had just long enough to take in his murderous expression, and then he’d tripped her, shoved a foot behind her calf and jerked her off balance.

Naturally she landed directly on top of him. He half caught her, grabbed at her forearms so she was suspended above him. She glared down at him for a moment, sorely tempted to headbutt him, or bite him, but then he jerked his hips and she became painfully cognizant of the fact that she now had her thighs wrapped around him.

His hands felt like brands against the flesh of her arms and she felt again his mad want of her seeping through his fingers and into her very skin. She sobbed in a tortured mixture of relief and frustration and found herself grinding that aching hollow he’d evoked in her against the hard ridge straining his pants. It wasn’t fair. She felt like crying. Instead she was moaning lowly and dry humping Spock like a teenager. His eyes squeezed shut and his breath stuttered unevenly. It occurred to Nyota that she was no longer the one pressed against a wall. She was in the position of power in their current position.

She didn’t think appealing to his logic would work. It was painfully obvious to her that Spock wasn’t at his most analytical when aroused, Vulcan or not, but she knew another side to him, one that would be very easy to manipulate, that he’d _accused_ her of manipulating in fact.

Leaning forward she rubbed her face against him. His face, his neck, just as he had done to her earlier. He twisted, returning the pressure. She felt his hands sliding down her arms. There was no way she’d be able to keep her wits if he joined his fingers with hers again. In a panic she pressed them to his face, cradled his head and kissed him. Her distraction worked perfectly. His hands were quickly diverted and slid up her skirt, tightly gripping her thighs and pressing her closer to him.

She moaned into his mouth at the decadent sensation of her very, _very_ wet body getting ground into sweet oblivion. She was pretty sure she could orgasm off just that fully clothed press of him.

When she realised she’d sat up, pulled her lips from his and put space between them, she found herself sort of dazedly impressed with her control. Instantly Spock lifted his head to try and kiss her again. She pressed fingers to his lips.

‘Spock. Anyone could come in here. See us.’

He looked unconcerned.

Nyota narrowed her eyes. ‘See _me._ Do you want other cadets, other _men_ to see me like this?’ She rolled her hips for emphasis.

He flinched bodily and his eyes snapped to her’s, his attention intimidating in its sudden intensity. _‘No other may see you. You are mine.’_ he hissed at her in Vulcan, sitting up abruptly and grabbing her by the neck.

 _‘Yes! Yes, Spohkh yours.’_ she agreed hastily, her heart hammering in the confusing mix of fear and arousal his strength inspired in her. His fingers dug into the nape of her neck and his thumb was pressed over her throat. He wasn’t choking her but the underlying strength of his grip was hard to ignore. It would be so easy for him to just snap her neck... The relentless hold of his hand loosened abruptly.

 _‘I would never harm you.’_ he murmured and his grip slackened entirely. Vulcans didn’t lie, but she didn’t think _that_ statement was entirely true.

Rather than argue she pleaded with him. ‘Take me some place else.’ she said.

For a moment he regarded her almost suspiciously, and then the world shifted and she found herself upright, his arms tight around her but her feet beneath her once more. She stepped back slightly and he grudgingly let her, maintaining an iron grip on one of her hands. He stared at her for a long moment and then turned and dragged her up along the tiered steps of the classroom towards the fire exit at the back of the room. ‘My bag!’ she protested.

Spock shot her a glare over his shoulder but let her lead them back down the steps so she could pick it up where it lay abandoned in the middle of the room. The moment her hand closed around the strap he jerked her back towards the exit, his steps hurried. The grip he had on her was almost painful. Nyota stared up at him as she followed. He was breathing heavily. Frowning. The muscles in his temples were flexing as he clenched his jaw. She could hardly sense anything at all through the touch of his hand on hers.

She tried to pay attention to where he was taking her, but she was too confused, her thoughts strange, almost as if she were drunk. The back exit of the tutorial theatre led to a corridor that she vaguely recalled contained small simulation rooms. She took only the basic piloting training necessary for bridge officer candidacy and rarely frequented the area of the building they were in.

Spock opened a door seemingly at random. Nyota had time to note that they were standing on a small raised observation platform above a replica shuttle cockpit simulation deck, and then he had shoved her against the now closed door and pressed his mouth to hers. For a split second she considered trying to deny him, trying to talk sense into him, but without the threat of discovery to cling to, she found her self-control well and truly gone. She let her bag fall forgotten to the floor beside them and reached for him. She wanted him, desperately, and they were alone. Nothing else really mattered. He kissed her roughly and his mouth was so _warm_ and he tasted so good... She hummed in pleasure and let her eyes close. One of his hands was ruining her hairstyle and the other slid down from her wrist to link their fingers. At the buzz of his desire snapping through the touch Nyota’s slender grip on reality disintegrated.

She rolled her head back against the cool metal of the door and ground her hips against his. Spock scraped his teeth over the curve of her jaw in a gesture that shouldn't have been sexy at all but somehow was. She was hot and aching and her body was _hollow._ 'Spock!' she gasped. Just speaking was difficult. He was lathing her neck with his tongue, licking the salt from her skin, the heat of his mouth making her shiver. She groaned. 'Need you...' she pleaded vaguely.

He groaned against her, his fingers tight in her hair. 'Nyota.' he sounded almost in pain.

She yanked her sodden underwear down to tangle forgotten around her left foot. A smouldering burst of lust and approval burnt through Spock’s fingertips at the action and he pulled at the fastening on his pants. Nyota felt the heat of him hard against her belly and she whimpered pathetically, then Spock simply grabbed her by the hips and more or less lifted her onto his cock.

She would have screamed at the feeling of him stretching her so deep and sudden, but his tongue was down her throat. Instead she wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him as tight as she could. Her back felt like she’d have bruises from banging against the door and she was certain he was leaving perfect imprints of his hands on her hips, but she didn’t care. The feel of his body thrusting deep and hard inside her was _so good_. The _best_ feeling. And he was saying things, her mad Vulcan, both in her head and panted in her ear. _beautiful Nyota, perfect Nyota, my Nyota._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written quite a bit more of this story, but writing the 'connecting' chapters between where we are and where will end up is proving frustrating!

**Spock**

His disturbing lack of control, his grossly illogical and irrational behaviour with regards to Nyota Uhura, was worsening. He had thought his instinctual responses to her would fade, but instead they appeared to be strengthening.

4.3 hours after he had left her dishevelled and smelling of him, he sat in meditation trying to understand the cause of these disturbing…  _needs_. He carefully analysed his entire association with her. She had been his student in her second and third years, and had proven unusually adept amidst her peers. He conceded an admiration for her intellect as a result of this. His physical attraction to her was simple enough and easily explained – she was very attractive. Her body was lithe and exceedingly feminine, her facial features symmetrical and delicate. As an unbonded male his appreciation of that fact was entirely unremarkable. What was unfathomably was that which had occurred after he had satisfied that attraction.

He needed to discover  _why_  he desired her as his mate before he lost control irrevocably.

During their frantic coupling in the simulator, the urge to meld with her had been even stronger than their last intimate encounter. Simply having her body was no longer as satisfying as it had been. As a result of that frustration, he'd had her thrice in quick succession. He'd felt how his own desires and lust were affecting her, influencing her feelings and actions, but he hadn't cared. Now with his thoughts clear and logical once more, he felt shame at his coercion of her. She had brought on his anger with her request to be removed as his aide, with her denial of their person association, but he could not fault her in trying to deny physically.

The classroom had not even been locked, but his need of her had been so powerful he hadn't cared. If she had not managed to convince him to relocate, they would very likely have been discovered in flagrante delicto.

The thought of such a situation made him feel something very much like dread. To be observed behaving in such a manner. Fornicating with a student.  _guv-tvi-rivak_. He imagined his father's steely face, his disdain as his son once more proved himself unworthy. His mother's sad-eyed human disappointment. Being dis-honourably discharged from Starfleet for such base behaviour was unthinkable. He could not allow the situation to continue, he had to regain his control.

Clearly his current methods of maintaining emotional discipline were insufficient. Perhaps he had been living amidst humans for too long, had grown lax. To that end he decided to spend the entire evening in intensive mediation in an attempt to strengthen his  _Venlinahr*_.

It was difficult to centre his thoughts, meditation had not come easily to him since his return from Kolari, but he persevered. 9.8 hours of intensive meditation and introspection later he felt more in control his emotions, more confidant in his mental disciplines than he had in a long time. By way of testing his control, he thought upon Nyota Uhura. The appreciation for her intellect and attractiveness was there, but those disturbing urges he'd been a slave to were muted, dulled. There was no disconcerting surge of lust or possessive desire.

He was immensely pleased, relieved.

He slept for 3 hours and awoke feeling calm and centred.

During his morning shower he did not have to fight the urge to stimulate himself to climax whilst fantasying about her.

When he saw her sitting in his third period class, he felt very little in response to her proximity.

During the hour she spent in his office performing her TA duties he did not find himself contemplating bending her over her desk, despite the fact that she sent him looks that he was aware were at least partially of invitation to such behaviour.

Renewing Venlinahr seemed to have markedly improved his control. Accordingly he stopped her as she packed up to leave his office.

'Cadet Uhura.'

She regarded him warily. 'Yes Commander?'

'My behaviour of late has been highly illogical.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'That's an understatement.' she muttered.

'You will be pleased to hear that I anticipate no further… outbursts.' he informed her.

' _Outbursts_  Sir?'

'A period of intensive mediation appears to have successfully suppressed my…' he paused, unable to make himself say  _feelings_ , '… irrational responses to you.'

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. 'So no more shoving me up against walls in classroom?'

'Affirmative. There will be no further need for personal interaction between us Cadet.' She raised her head sharply and gave him a look that he interpreted as displeasure. He was confused - he had anticipated relief. 'Cadet? You were quite adamant of the logic of that fact when last we spoke on the matter.'

She pursed her lips. 'Logic that you refused to accept when last we 'spoke' on the matter.'

'I must apologise for my inappropriate behaviour Cadet Uhura. Your logic for ending our association was perfectly sound.' he admitted grudgingly.

Her expression softened slightly and she nodded. 'Yes. That's right. It's the smart thing.' She gave him a slightly sceptical look. 'So you're back to… your normal logical self sir?' She peered at him intensely, as if trying to find evidence to support that fact.

'I am once more in control of my emotions.' he agreed.

Her expression sharpened and she stepped forward into his personal space. Spock felt mild discomfort at her proximity. She pressed her palm to his cheek, her touch cool and soft. He raised an eyebrow at her. Her eyes flicked over his features searchingly. After a period of 9.8 seconds she met his eyes with an expression he did not understand. 'You really are aren't you?' She removed her hand and stepped back.

'Indeed Cadet.'

She was nodding, her expression thoughtful. 'I'm glad. I wasn't… I wasn't sure what to do.' She bit her lip. 'You were acting like a different person.' It belatedly occurred to Spock that as disturbing as he had found his behaviour, his lack of control, for Nyota it must have been far more distressing.

Spock avoided her gaze and managed to offer an awkward apology. He could not offer her a truthful explanation, so he felt it warranted. 'I apologise for any distress I may have caused you Cadet.'

She smiled but Spock did not think she was happy. 'Thank you sir. I'm glad you are… recovered.' She shouldered her satchel in preparation to leave. Her smile widened slightly although it still did not seem entirely authentic. It was a strained expression Spock was intimately familiar with owing to his mother. 'When you tell Professor Jones we "made peace" it won't be a lie. Good night sir.'

* * *

 

**Nyota**

She managed to make it out of his office before her eyes started watering, and all the way back to her dorm before she started crying. She threw herself down on her bed and let herself sob. Her reaction to Spock's revelation was…  _illogical._  Stupid.

Hadn't she wanted to end it? Their stupid…  _thing_ , whatever it was.

Hadn't she been furious at him only the day before? He'd done just what she wanted, so why was so devastated? She'd intended to speak to him about his increasingly deranged behaviour, hopefully in a far more calm and rational way then their last 'discussion', so why was she upset that he'd beaten her to the punch-line? He'd given her just what she'd wanted – agreed to sever their personal connection – so why was she bawling her eyes out like a teenager that had just been dumped?

She sniffed, grabbed a tissue off her bed-side table and blew her nose. This was good. Great even! It had been incredibly foolish to get involved with her instructor. Inviting him into her room on Kolari had been a mistake. Now that he'd gotten a hold of his 'irrational urges' she could move on from that mind-numbingly stupid idea that there could be anything between them. She focused on the positives. She could relax now. She wasn't fraternizing with a superior officer anymore, there was no risk of getting caught and kicked out of the Academy. Spock was apparently back to his polite, helpful, intelligent self. Back to being a person she enjoyed being around. Her career was safe and back on track. She'd be serving on a starship in no time!

She managed three deep even breaths before she started choking and her nose started running again _. God._  What would Spock think if he could see her blubbering and getting snot everywhere? A crying human woman was probably a Vulcan's worst nightmare.

* * *

 

Gaila got in late so Nyota didn't get a chance to vent properly to her before classes the next morning. She had only one class with Spock as her teacher. She spent most of the 1.5 hour tutorial trying to convince herself that she was happy that everything was back to normal. Spock paid her absolutely zero especial attention and that was good. Great.

After classes she restrained the urge to head to the campus bar and perform a chemical lobotomy upon herself with Saurian brandy.

Her next TA session with Spock was terrible. For her at least. Spock seemed perfectly at ease. He barely even looked in her direction. It was as if the entire thing between them had never happened. He was coolly polite and attentive to any questions she had regarding her duties, but otherwise ignored her. When he met her gaze in conversation his expression was mild and disinterested. There was no hint of that dark-eyed alien glare she'd been getting so accustomed to. She couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that this was the same Spock who'd been nearly mad with jealously days earlier.

He bid her farewell perfectly cordially. Nyota shoved down at the pained rejection she felt welling up in her and returned the sentiment with a smile.

She wished she could just forget as easily, just meditate herself into a nice emotionless robot. She was only human however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _Venlinahr_ – the normal state of adult discipline and emotional control.


	7. Chapter 7

**Spock**

He continued his increased meditation each evening. He had no desire to risk succumbing to his primitive and illogical want of Nyota Uhura again. Maintaining his discipline, his hold upon venlinahr, was vital. He still felt an… appreciation… for Cadet Uhura, but he had not felt the disturbing compulsion to act upon that fact. When she had touched him in an apparent test of his control, he had not felt any overwhelming reaction to the gesture. He was still gratified when she left his office on Friday afternoon and he was free of her presence however.

After his evening meal he meditated, and feeling refreshed, elected to visit the Academy Gymnasium to partake of additional exercise.

He spent 45 minutes in _suss mahna_ exercises and then headed towards the lap pool in the basement. He found swimming beneficial for the relieving of muscle tension after exercise. There were few people utilising the facility. It was growing late by human standards and few cadets or staff were exercising. By the time he completed fifty laps he was alone in the cavernous room .

Spock headed towards the changing rooms to shower and re-dress.

He passed the steam room, noting it was occupied. Unusual given the hour. Five steps past the door he found himself turning back. There was _something…_ He inhaled deeply. _Her._ His heart rate had accelerated. He felt those disturbing _feelings_ that he’d been blissfully free of return full force and found himself quite unprepared.

The steam room was filled with billowing clouds of water vapour. Spock crossed the space, the flooring wet under his bare feet. He knew where she was even though he could not see her through the haze. He could smell her. The fresh maddeningly scent of her hung potent in the air, pulling him towards her.

He could make out the silhouette of her lying along one of the benches, a dark figure amidst the steam. She wore a dark red regulation swimsuit and her eyes were closed. Her breasts moved up and down with slow even breaths. She was dozing.

In a daze Spock walked towards her. The heat of the sauna was pleasant, though the extreme humidity strange to a native of Vulcan.

At the sound of his footsteps she half sat up, resting on her elbows and peering towards the door. Her damp hair hung down over her shoulders in curls and waves. ‘Hello?’ she inquired curiously, her voice hoarse with sleep.

Spock was standing right beside her before they were close enough to see each other’s faces clearly. Her eyes widened as she recognised him. ‘Commander Spock.’ she stated warily, looking up at him.

Spock clenched a fist. Released it. The _smell_ of her.

He reached down and pressed fingers to her brow, dragged them down along the line of her face. Her breath caught and she turned slightly into his touch though her eyes were still wide with shock and confusion. He felt the pull of her thoughts as his fingers slid over her temple and across her cheekbone. Tempting. So very tempting…

His control was gone, his renewed Venlinahr burnt away as if it had never existed.

‘Sir?.... Spock?’ she asked, catching his eyes.

He did not know what she was asking, let alone his answer to the question. His mind was rebelling against him again, demanding strange things of him.

She smelt so good. The scent of her skin hung around him in a soft alluring cloud. With every breath he took in he tasted her in the back of his throat. He was on his knees, his face pressed against her damp skin before he really knew what he was doing. Her body froze and he heard her gasp slightly. He inhaled deeply and licked at the drops of sweat gathered in the hollow of her clavicle. She tasted like salt and _her._ He felt her shock through her skin. She pushed at him, tried to sit up.

Her voice was strained. ‘What are you…?’

He bit her softly in warning.

She stopped trying to sit up. He could feel her pulse beating rapidly and traced the throb with his tongue. Her scent was changing, growing even more enticing. He vaguely realised that his eyes were closed and that he’d fisted a hand in her damp hair.

‘Spock.’ her voice was uneven, a mix of fear, trepidation and arousal. She swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘What are you doing?’

What indeed?

He had spoken before he realised he was going to. ‘I am uncertain.’ he mumbled into her skin.

Her hand was in his hair, softly stroking. Her voice was quieter, warmer, but still hesitant. ‘Spock. You said… You said this wasn’t going to happen anymore.’ she said. ‘What _is_ this?’

He followed the line of her collarbone with his tongue and then continued down over the swell of her right breast, scraping teeth and tongue against the soft flesh. She shivered and the fingers in his hair tightened slightly. ‘I have attempted to ascertain the cause of my illogical behaviour with regards to you and find myself at a loss Nyota Uhura.’

Exhausted by such a long and coherent explanation, he fell silent and pulled a nipple into his mouth, sucking through the damp material of her swimming costume. There was a faint chemical taste from the pool water. She gasped and squirmed.

_‘Spock!’_ She yanked at his hair but he ignored her. ‘You said we weren’t going to do this any - ’

Her words were cut off in a gasp as he tugged her swimming costume over her shoulder and exposed her breast. She made as if to sit up again but he held her down with his grip on her hair. He pressed his cheek against the damp heaving hollow between her breasts, enjoying the soft press of her body and the beat of her slow human heart beneath his ear.

She slapped at his shoulder, tugged at his hair. _‘Spock!_ ’ The sharp sensations, the little pains, were most satisfying. Lifting his head he met her gaze as he traced the circle of her dark nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking upon it sharply. As he watched her entire expression shifted and changed, shock giving way to pleasure. She said his name again, the tonal implication at great odds with her earlier utterance, pleading and… submissive. His lok twitched and throbbed in response, hard and heavy with want.

He stood, pulling her up against him. She let out a startled squeak and clutched at him. The feel of her near naked body pressed warm against him was much more gratifying than it had any reasonable cause to be. He ground the rigid length of his lok into her belly and she made a stifled vocalisation, her nails biting into the flesh of his shoulder. She didn’t try push him away or fight him, but her body was stiff and awkward in his arms. Spock tightened his grip and mouthed along the line of her shoulder and up her neck. She twisted away from him slightly, pressed fingers to his face and tugged at him so he would meet her eyes.

She was almost panting, her words breathy and confused. ‘You said we weren’t going to do this anymore…’ The way she spoke made it almost a question. ‘We agreed it was a bad idea.’ Both statements were entirely accurate. Yet again _she_ , a mere human, was the voice of reason, of logic, not he. How was it she had this affect upon him? There was no excuse this time. She had not aroused territorial Vulcan instincts in him or attempted to goad him into action. It was mere chance he had encountered her. She had not sought him out, he could not blame his lack of discipline upon her. He groaned and pressed his face to hers.

_‘There is something wrong with me.’_ he muttered, slipping into his native tongue. His lips brushed her jaw as he spoke so her pressed kisses to it.

_‘What? Tell me!’_ she pleaded, twisting her face so she could look at him.

He had not intended to speak his thoughts out loud. Frustration thrummed through him. What could he tell her? He did not understand himself. What logic, what _purpose_ did any of this serve? She was human, why would his Vulcan biology fixate upon her in such a manner? How was it even possible?

_‘It is you.’_ he accused her petulantly.

_‘Me?’_

_‘You.’_ He could not look at her anymore. He turned his face and pressed his cheek to hers so he did not have to meet her eyes. _‘You have… done something to me. I cannot…’_ his hips were restlessly grinding into her. He could smell her arousal. He wanted to bury his face between her thighs and devour her. His body shook _‘I need…’_ her. He needed to press his fingertips to her face and sink into her mind as he sunk into her body. And she would let him. Just as she had let him have her body she would let him have her mind, he was certain of it. She would not even understand what she was agreeing to… perhaps he could keep that from her?

_‘… me?’_ she guessed her voice soft in his ear.

Spock shifted his hold upon her and sat down abruptly upon the bench, pulling her onto his lap. She let out a little huff of surprise and squirmed half-heartedly. _‘Yes. You.’_ he admitted with something like relief.

She softened in his arms, but he could feel her hesitation. He contemplated feeding her his own desire through his fingers, but he wanted her of her own volition. Instead he slid a hand down her back to curve around her backside and rocked her hips against his. Her lips parted in a gasp and he took advantage of the fact to kiss her. She moaned into his mouth and hesitated only for a moment before she twisted her tongue against his. The thin material separating their bodies did little to shield him from the soft heat of her. Unable to resist he slipped fingers past her smimsuit and stroked the wet heat of her body. Her hips shifted, made tiny encouraging movements. He gripped her plump bottom lip between his teeth and slowly slipped a finger inside her. She groaned and straightened in his arms and he sunk deeper, her body warm and wet and tempting. _‘You are exceedingly aroused.’_ he observed.

She moaned weakly.

He added a second finger and slowly rocked them inside her. Her body clamped and flexed around him, implausibly wet and silken. His erection throbbed in jealously, aching to be in her. He wanted to feel those muscles tense and flutter around him as she climaxed on his lok, wanted to spend himself inside her.

He felt a pulse of heat from her and realised she’d picked up at least a vague notion of his unguarded thoughts. _‘… yes.’_ Her eyes rolled back in her head. _‘Spock… inside me.’_

He required no further encouragement. He shoved his swimming trunks down and pulled her swimsuit to the side. She shifted eagerly, helped him position their bodies and then he was inside her. _Warm. Wet._ He rocked up against her. _Tight._ He gripped hips still bruised from the last time he’d had her and pulled her slowly up and down upon his lok. Her head rolled on her shoulders, a long groan on her lips. Her arms twisted around him, her lips pressed against his shoulders, his neck, his face. Her face was tight against his, her arms holding him close, and when she came it was with a sigh into his mouth. Spock shuddered and gasped as he followed her, the silken pulse of her around him too much to bear. He managed to resist the urge to bite her and kissed her hungrily instead.

That remained entwined around one another for some time. He awaited her anger at his reckless behaviour but it was not forthcoming. Instead she kissed him languidly and then insisted they shower.

The locker rooms were just as deserted as the rest of the pool area, and Spock felt a vague sense of relief at his fact, but his thoughts were languid and tangled. Nyota led him into one of the private shower cubicles and locked the door.

She triggered the water setting and then peeled off her swimsuit and tugged off his trunks. For a few minutes she set her attention upon washing them, her hands foamy with non-descript cleanser from the dispenser, while Spock entertained himself by stroking his hands up along whatever parts of her body he could reach. He then decided he would like to kiss her again, so he did so. He slid his fingers along hers and she sighed and pressed her wet body into him. She was soft and warm and lovely and kissing him and naked and he wanted her again and what was the point in denying it?

He turned her towards the tiled wall and pressed himself against her wet soapy body and she arched back into him and moaned. He gripped her hip and she shifted, opened herself for him and he sunk into her body, swollen and wet from their previous encounter. This time he did mark her. With fingers twisted in her hair, dangerously close to her temples, be buried his teeth in the back of her neck. The shock of it made her gasp and spasm around him and he let himself spill his seed within her for a second time, growling his satisfaction against her skin.

She crumpled limply but Spock held her upright, enjoying the brief calm he felt, the pleasant sensation of her in his arms and the warm water of the shower on his back.

_‘Nyota t’nash-veh?’_ he asked her some minutes later, his body still buried inside her, but their breathing and heart-rates slowly returning to normal.

_‘Ha Spohkh. T’du.’_

She didn’t know what he was truly asking her, but her answer thrilled him all the same.

_‘T’nash-veh.’_ he agreed. With his mark upon her slender neck and his lok cradled inside her, he could almost delude himself into believing it. His female, his mate, his Nyota.

He decided he would not meditate when he returned to his quarters. He did want the cool calm of Venlinahr, he wanted her.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the encouragement guys, these last few chapters have been hard, but I should have faster updates from here on since I've more or less plotted out where we are headed!

**Nyota**

When she awoke she was momentarily dis-orientated. She was warm, perhaps too warm, lying on a very firm mattress with a sheet tangled over one shoulder. She shifted uncomfortably. One  _naked_ shoulder… She never sleep naked.

Her eyes bugged open and she found herself staring into a curious set of dark Vulcan eyes.

Spock.

Her brain fully woken up by the shock, she recalled the events of the previous evening. Being waylaid, (again), by her Commander in the  _gym steam room_  of all places, then again in the shower… and then eventually, in his bed. Although waylaid wasn't really the right word… she had offered much resistance…

He was sat cross-legged against the headboard beside her in a comfortable looking robe of some sort. He was looking down at her curiously, but with a PADD in his hand denoting that he hadn't, in fact, been just watching her sleep like a weirdo. She blinked and stretched. His eyes darted down and she quickly pulled the sheet up so he wasn't getting an eyeful. Her cheeks burned.

'Good Morning Nyota.' he offered her politely, as if her waking up naked in his bed was an entirely commonplace and acceptable occurrence.

She licked her lips and frowned slightly. 'Morning Spock.' Her voice was slightly hoarse with sleep.

She sat up and looked around the room. She didn't see her clothes nearby.

The mattress dipped slightly as Spock moved and then she felt warm fingers press gently to the nape of her neck, tracing the bite he'd left there. A little twinge of burning pain flicked through her, but then he pressed the tingly heat of his palm against her skin and soothed the little hurt.

'I am sorry to have caused you injury.' he offered awkwardly.

She gave him a sceptical look over her shoulder. He was regarding her solemnly, but she recalled his far from solemn countenance when she'd gotten the bite in question.

'No you aren't.' she replied.

He seemed to take strange alien delight in biting her, in leaving marks on her skin. Perfectly normal for his species he'd claimed. His head tilted slightly and his eyes left hers to regard her back. He'd bitten her there she recalled. Mouthed along the line of her shoulder blade when he had her from behind. 'I regret causing you discomfort.' he amended.

Nyota shrugged slightly. 'It didn't hurt at the time.' They had more they needed to discuss, more important topics than Vulcan lovebites to cover, but Nyota's immediate concern was peeing. And rinsing her mouth. Giving up on clothes, she tugged at the sheet as she got to her feet, wrapping it toga-style around her body.

'Where are you going?' Spock asked, his voice betraying a trace… concern? Irritation? It was difficult to tell. He  _was_ a Vulcan after all.

'To use the bathroom.' Nyota informed him.

He was sitting back on the bed when she emerged a few minutes later feeling slightly more refreshed and like herself, but he'd gotten her clothes from where ever they'd ended up - on the floor somewhere between his front door and his bed no doubt - and they were neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

She wondered if he wanted her to leave, was surprised he'd let her sleep till morning actually. She picked up the bundle of clothes she'd worn to the gym the night before and forced herself to meet his gaze. The atmosphere was beyond awkward. 'Do you mind if I have a quick shower?' She didn't want to hang around if he wanted her gone, but she'd prefer not to return to the Orion Inquisition smelling like she'd been thoroughly fucked by a Vulcan.

'I am amenable.' he responded. 'There are clean towels in the cupboard to the left of the shower.'

Nyota nodded her thanks and headed back into his ensuite.

His shower was set to a  _blistering_ heat setting, but otherwise there was nothing weird or Vulcany in his bathroom. The cleansers and shampoos were normal terran varieties. She sniffed them all of course - nosy - and used the ones that she decided smelt best. Her muscles ached. She was uncertain if it was from both the long run and workout she'd completed prior to her brief swim and trip to the sauna in the gym the night before, or the exercise she'd partaken of after that.

The little bruises on her hips and ass were most definitely Spock inflicted injuries however. She lined up her thumb and index finger to two dark purple spots. Fingerprints. And of course there were the bite marks on her back and neck. She twisted in front of the mirror and tried to inspect them after she'd dried off. They weren't as bad as she'd thought. Nowhere near as deep as the bites he'd given her in his office. The one on her neck felt like it might have drawn blood, but the other marks along her shoulder blade were just soft bruises.

She tried to pretend that the sight of them didn't excite a part of her, but she remembered enjoying receiving them quite a bit… quite a lot. And if she'd enjoyed it, and he'd enjoyed it, what did it matter? It was a little unusual, but hardly that weird. The one on her neck was a bit much maybe, but the other ones… Seeing the marks on her skin and remembering Spock's mouth on her, calling her  _his_  made a wave of heat wash over her. Nyota was suddenly very conscious of her nudity. And of Spock's proximity on just the other side of the door. On a bed.

She frowned at her reflection and started pulling on her clothes. Her muscles protested. She couldn't get her arms to behave. Obviously she'd overdone the strength training. Her arms were so stiff it was an involved and painful process just to hook her bra. The zip on her dress, always a bit awkward, proved too much. After spending a minute reaching over her shoulders and around her ribs trying to get it done up, she admitted defeat at the half-way mark.

Timidly she exited the bathroom.

Spock was still sitting upon the bed. He gave her his full attention and she squirmed a little.

'Spock, could you, um…' she pointed over her shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow.

'I can't quite get my zipper up. Could you fasten it for me?' Just so she didn't have to look at him anymore, she turned to illustrate her problem.

He got to his feet with a soft rustling and she managed not to flinch when she felt a warm hand rest gently upon her spine. He tugged at the zip. It didn't move. She felt warm breath on her back as he apparently leant closer to inspect the issue.

'There is cloth caught in the closure.' he informed her.

'Oh.' Nyota replied. Her heart was racing. 'I overdid my reps yesterday. I thought I was just too stiff to reach it properly.' she babbled.

'You have muscle strain?' Spock inquired evenly, working at freeing the zip. Every now and then his hands would brush against her skin as he tugged at it.

'Ah. Yes? A little.' she replied vaguely.

She felt something give. Spock had cleared her zipper. Instead of doing it up however he smoothed a palm up along her spine. Nyota shivered. 'There is tension in the inferior fibers of your trapezius muscle.' he informed her.

'Um...' she replied eloquently, unsure of what to say and distracted by the very warm hand pressed against her skin.

He traced along the left hand side of her spine, out below her shoulder blade, his fingers stretching out, and then he dug his thumb and middle finger deeply into her flesh and Nyota felt a strange heat and tingle. Her breath whooshed out and her back stretched back at the sudden relief of tension.

She blinked. 'Wha?' cleared her throat. 'What was that?'

'It is a Vulcan technique.' he replied, his fingers smoothing over her skin. 'Sit on the bed. I will relieve you of your discomfort.'

Nyota pursed her lips at his commanding tone. Trust Spock to turn offering her a massage into an order. Still, she climbed up onto the bed and sat down cross-legged. 'Is this okay?'

He knelt behind her, his weight making the mattress dip and slope towards him. 'It is acceptable.' Warm hands pushed her dress over her shoulders and unhooked her bra so that her back was bare. For a minute his palms ran over and along the lines of her back in a conventional massage, and then he started pressing firmly in precise spots and hot electric sparks seemed to zap through her skin, deep into her muscles, making them loosen and relax.

It felt  _wonderful._

She was uncertain how long he worked upon her back. Eventually he moved onto her neck, and then along her shoulders and down her arms. Nyota limply flopped under the direction of his hands, warm and relaxed and half asleep. She offered no complaint when he tugged her dress over her head and continued his ministrations. His hands traced her entire body, strong and warm and addictive. It felt entirely natural, when he was leaning over her, his fingers spread across her ribcage, to wrap her thighs around him. His hand slid lower and instead of relieving tension he began building it.

'I thought you said this was a Vulcan technique Spock, not an Orion one.' she said in a soft teasing voice, too relaxed to open her eyes.

'I believe this particular 'technique' is practised by Vulcan and Orion alike, along with most other humanoid species.' His hand shifted, fingers sliding against her. 'Although there is one Vulcan variation which is unique to our race.'

Nyota hummed in pleasure, only half listening to his words. 'Yeah?'

'It is a neuro-pressure technique utilizing the same combination of physical pressure and psi-energy for the purpose of nerve manipulation I have been demonstrating.' he continued evenly.

'Sounds… interesting.' Nyota replied vaguely, her hips wiggling in little circles. His fingers shifted, slid firmly over the wet bud of her clit with a sharp jarring pleasure. She gasped and her eyes flicked open.

Spock was crouched over her with that dark look in his eyes that made her heart beat faster and heat flare deep inside her. His head tilted slightly to one side, his gaze narrowing intensely, and then he did  _that thing._  Nyota's back arched and her entire body seized up as if she'd been electrocuted. Unexpectedly, violently, almost  _painfully,_ an orgasm rocked through her. Wracked her mercilessly. She made a high-pitched wailing noise, part shock, part pain but mostly intense pleasure.

She was dazed when he entered her, unable to do more than just hold on and try to attempt not to suffocate or pass out from the overwhelming sensation of him moving against her hyper-sensitised body. It seemed to go on forever, torture and pleasure all at once, and then he came - hot and gasping - his brow pressed to hers and his fingers twisted with her own. She felt the echo of that pulsing release, but her own body was still too tightly wound to share in it fully.

He collapsed against her in a crushing Vulcan lump, his head on her shoulder and an arm across her chest. The heavy weight of him was simultaneously reassuring and oppressive. She stared up past his pale shoulder at the ceiling above them and tried to catch her breath. Of its own accord one of her hands started stroking his hair and he made one of those Vulcan noises of his. A little rumbly huff of apparent approval. Nyota smiled at the absurdity, tension draining out of her and that loose relaxation she'd felt earlier returning slightly.

She turned her face towards him and awkwardly managed to press a kiss to the crown of his head. Past him a wide window offered a view of San Francisco, grey and dreary. Perfect weather to be smothered in Vulcan in. He was so  _warm…_

* * *

She must have dozed again, because she woke up in almost precisely the same manner as she had hours earlier. She was naked in Spock's bed with the aforementioned Vulcan perched beside her with a PADD.

She regarded him in bleary dejavu.

'Good Afternoon Nyota.' he offered serenely.

'How long was I asleep?' she croaked, burying her head against his thigh.

'4.8 hours.'

'What time is it?'

'It is 12:48 hours.'

Nyota allowed herself a few moments additional rest. His sheets smelt nice. She wondered what he had his refresher set too… 'I suppose I should get up.' she said at length.

'To remain sleeping would most likely have a negative effect upon your circadian cycle.' he agreed.

She sighed and stumbled to her feet, taking the sheet with her as a makeshift toga once more. Spock regarded her with an expression which seemed to imply he found her behaviour 'highly illogical', but he wisely refrained from comment.

Nyota picked up her discarded clothing and retreated to the bathroom. She scrubbed the sleep from her face and vainly attempted to straighten her hair before giving up and piling it in a haphazard bun atop her head. Her stomach gurgled.

Lunch. But first… She needed to talk to Spock.

He gave her a wary look when she emerged. 'You are uneasy.' he observed.

She twisted her mouth in a frown that was half pout. 'Yes.' she agreed. 'I'm…' she gestured with her hand airily. 'confused.'

He nodded. 'I also find this situation to be… confounding.'

Nyota felt herself calm a little at his words. Maybe he would actually talk to her this time. Not just over-react and twist her words. She licked her lips nervously. 'I need you to explain what this is Spock, because… I'm not sure what we are… doing. Exactly.'

He was silent for some time. Long enough for Nyota pick at her manicure and discover three chipped nails and then to walk over to the window and stare down at the street below. It was still grey and dreary.

Spock unfolded himself from the bed and came to stand nearby her, his hands clasped behind his back. Her eyes met his briefly in the reflection of the window before she darted her attention elsewhere.

He shifted on his feet, like he was going to speak but then did not. Speaking of such things was probably very difficult for him, alien. Answering her questions would perhaps be easier. She swallowed and met his gaze. 'You said that your behaviour was normal for a Vulcan - ' He nodded slightly. '- I don't think you were being entirely honest with me.'

His head tilted in contemplation. 'My behaviour has followed Vulcan norms, however,  _you_ are not Vulcan.  _That_  is not normal. It has been the cause of much of my more… illogical behaviour.'

Nyota frowned. 'My being human?'

'Correct.'

'How?' Wasn't  _he_ half human? Clearly  _that_  wasn't an issue.

'Vulcans are… ill-suited to Terran style personal associations.'

'What does that even mean?'

He frowned ever so slightly. 'Perhaps I could cite an example?'

'Please.'

'Vulcans are territorial.' he began haltingly. 'It is difficult. Were you Vulcan, I would know your thoughts. There would be no doubt or need for human trust.'

'You mean like that waiter?'

His eyes flashed slightly but otherwise his expression remained smooth. 'There would be no… confusion between two Vulcans.'

Nyota was silent for a moment as she thought over his words. 'So you're saying that because I'm not Vulcan, not telepathic, you're having trouble with these… instincts? That's why your behaviour's been so erratic?'

'That is correct.'

She turned to face him fully and took his hand in hers, twisting and sliding her fingers against his in the way he had shown her. His eyelids lowered slightly. 'Does this help?' she asked. 'With the confusion?' she clarified.

'It is… yes.' he replied. 'I feel your thoughts.'

She tilted her head and looked up at him. 'Could I lie to you like this?'

His brow furrowed and Nyota found herself tugged forward into his arms. 'Lie?' he asked coolly looking down at her with a very guarded expression on his face.

'Answer the question Spock. With us touching like this, could I lie to you?'

'Why would you wish to lie to me Nyota?' he asked lowly.

'I  _don't._  Now answer the question.' she snapped.

He regarded her with narrowed eyes for a moment. 'No. I could sense your deception. Perhaps not the precise nature of the lie, but the intent.'

Nyota nodded. 'Good.'

His eyebrow rose in query.

'The next time you get yourself worked up, thinking I'm going to run off with our waiter or whatever, we can just do this and clear it up.' she explained, quite pleased with herself. It seemed vaguely insulting that she'd need to more or less subject herself to a telepathic lie-detector test because of his irrational fears, but it was a concession she was willing to make.

Perhaps he felt some of that thought their fingers.

'A thoughtful concession.' he agreed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have prepared for you some fluff featuring drunk!Spock.

**Spock**

Nyota looked even more attractive in her formal uniform than she had on Kolari. Spock noted that she attracted many admiring glances though he attempted to ignore this fact.

He sipped on the beverage in his hand. A Terran Brandy of some variety. He did not find it particularly appetising, but he was aware that if he was not seen to be consuming something, every human he encountered would inquire after that fact.

The Starfleet Xenolinguist/Xenoculture mixer was one of the less tedious of the enforced social events on Spock’s calendar. Since many of those in attendance were colleagues he was already familiar with and the cadets in attendance had a shared interest in non-terran language and culture, he found the quality of conversation to be at least less insulting if not particularly riveting.

He and Lt. F’haran, one of the Academy’s Federation Xenoculture instructors, had been having an interesting enough conversation on their shared mystification at Imperial Kolari – a language Spock found highly illogical and F’haran absurdly poetic – when he observed Nyota being led to the dance floor by Professor Jones.

This in itself was unremarkable. The Professor had already danced with three other students and two members of staff, and Spock did not suspect he harboured intentions of perusing any sort of sexual interaction with Nyota, but it still awoke that violent possessiveness he felt in regards to her.

Since his discussion with Nyota after their unexpected… _encounter_ in the Gymnasium, he had managed to control such illogical and reckless, ( _insane_ she called it), responses with regards to her. To their mutual satisfaction, save a few comments made in obscure alien dialects, there had been no further improper behaviour upon Academy grounds. Spock had discovered that through a combination of meditation enforcing his hold upon _Venlinahr_ and time spent in Nyota’s company, he was able to maintain something approximating his usual emotional control.

Be that as it may, observing her in the arms of another male, he suddenly found F’haran’s conversation difficult to follow. Mercifully after 4.3 minutes, the song ended and Professor Jones removed his hands from Nyota’s body. Spock felt a near physical relief. Such occasions reminded him painfully that his current measures were a mere stop-gap. Something would need to be done with regards to his involvement with Nyota Uhura. As to what however, he had no idea. He could not bond with her. He could not stop wanting her. And he could not go on as he was. Though he was loathe to do so, he was beginning to accept that he would need to seek his family’s, or at the very least - a healer’s - aid in finding a suitable solution to his problem.

Across the hall Nyota dropped Professor Jones’ hand and walked beside him off the dance floor. As Spock observed the Professor stopped and introduced her to Rear Admiral Komack and Admiral Nogura. Admiral Komack was currently based upon the Academy Board and a common enough sight on campus, but Admiral Nogura was a highly respected and decorated member of Starfleet Command. It was unusual for cadets to be introduced to such high-ranking officers, but Jones had expressed his admiration for Nyota’s abilities on many occasions. Nyota was smiling widely and seemed pleased to have been given the opportunity. Content enough with her current company, Spock returned his full attention to Lt. F’haran. She was comparing High Kolari to Old Klingon for what he believed was intended to be comedic effect.

It was not until they were joined by Professor Jones some time later that Spock allowed himself another glance in Nyota’s direction. Admiral Nogura remained in place, now talking to Admiral Barnett and his wife, but Nyota and Admiral Komack were no longer in evidence. Spock scanned the room. He discovered them dancing. He consciously turned his back upon the dance floor so he would not be tempted to stare and draw illogical conclusions. Nyota had assured him she had no interest in cultivating any personal attachments beyond their own, and he believed her. Jealousy in regards to her dancing was irrational.

He drained his glass of brandy and he and F’haran visited the bar to obtain fresh refreshments. The Andorian Lieutenant insisted he try a particular terran concoction she claimed a great appreciation for. Spock doubted it was an enthusiasm he would share but accepted the offer. F’haran made a very complicated and cryptic order and some minutes later Spock was presented with a strangely shaped glass of a foamy liquid of a pale orange colour. It had a potent citrus odour and, unsurprisingly, tasted of oranges, cream and alcohol.

F’haran made a satisfied sighing noise as she sipped hers.

‘It is… most intriguing.’ Spock offered by way of assessment when pressed for his opinion. In truth it was not unpleasant. It was overly sweet and the burn of alcohol vaguely unpleasant and pointless to a Vulcan, but the spicy orange flavour was almost enough to render it palatable.

Spock consciously avoided looking for Nyota as they made their way back to Professor Jones, who had been joined by Admiral Nogura. It was unusual to see the Admiral at such an Academy function. He rarely left the Presidio across the bay.

They conversed for a period of 12.9 minutes, after which Lt. F’hara excused herself only to return with two more of the orange drinks and glasses of Saurian Brandy for Jones and Nogura. Spock accepted the orange beverage only out of human politeness instilled in him by his mother.

Several minutes later Professor Jones nodded his head towards the dance floor. ‘I might have to go rescue poor Cadet Uhura. Komack’s been dragging her around the dance-floor for a good half hour now.’

The group turned their attention to where the Admiral was indeed still dancing with Nyota. Spock took a careful, long, steady breath and then a sip of the orange drink in his hand. He would not over-react. He would not cause a scene. He would not go and bodily remove Nyota from where she stood in Admiral Komack’s arms. He would not break each finger the man had dared to touch her with. To do so would be highly illogical, despite how satisfying it would be.

Lt. F’haran chuckled, her antennae weaving back and forth slightly in amusement. ‘Poor Cadet Uhura. Komack’s probably trod on her toes half a dozen times by now. The man can’t dance.’

Professor Jones smiled at the Andorian woman. ‘That’s right, he did a number on you at the ’66 graduation dance didn’t he?’

‘He _broke_ one of my toes.’ the Lieutenant clarified wryly.

Spock glanced at her sharply. ‘Dancing with the Admiral resulted in you receiving a fracture?’

She nodded. ‘Mhm. I didn’t realise at the time. I’d over indulged a little that night. Gave the cadets in  medical a good laugh the next morning though.’ she glanced at Komack and Uhura again. ‘The Cadet’s your TA isn’t she?’

‘She is.’ Spock admitted. ‘I have no desire for her to be injured.’ he added hesitantly.

F’haran shrugged. ‘Go cut in then.’

Spock regarded her curiously. ‘Cut in?’

‘Interrupt and ask her to dance with you instead.’ Professor Jones explained.

‘That seems… impolite.’ Spock replied, glancing again at the Admiral. His eyes narrowed. Komack had his hands very close to Nyota’s shapely backside. Perhaps breaking his fingers was not so illogical after all…

Jones shrugged. ‘No, it’s perfectly commonplace.’ He paused and smirked. ‘Or is it true what they say? That Vulcans can’t dance?’

Spock gave the man a look intended to indicate his lack of amusement at the comment. It seemed successful.

Jones raised his hands. ‘Fine, I’ll go rescue Uhura. Don’t want the Admiral maiming my best student.’

He passed his glass to F’haran and headed out onto the dance-floor. There was a brief exchange and much strained smiling when he approached Nyota and the Admiral, and then Komack was retreating and Professor Jones was leading Nyota in a dance which didn’t seem to involve them being as indecently close to one another and touching as much as Komack’s style. Gratifyingly, Jones’ hands were not positioned anywhere near her posterior.

Spock still found turning back to F’haran somewhat difficult. He preferred Nyota to be dancing with Professor Jones over Admiral Komack, but he would still prefer her not to dance with anyone. As he turned he noted a curious feeling of vertigo and was forced to compensate, shifting awkwardly from his left to right foot, to prevent himself stumbling. A worrying thought occurred to him. ‘Lieutenant F’haran,’ he called to obtain her attention.

‘Yes Commander?’ she returned.

‘Precisely what is in this beverage?’ he asked peering at the dregs in his glass.

She frowned in thought. ‘A terran liquor, cream and ice.’

‘This liquor, it is orange based?’ Spock inquired.

‘Orange and chocolate.’ she replied.

‘Ah.’ he remarked. It suddenly seemed like it might be time he departed the function. ‘You are perhaps unaware that derivatives of the Terran cacao plant has a somewhat… _undesirable_ effect upon Vulcans.’ For a professor in Xenoculture that was almost unexpected, despite the inherent privacy of his race.

Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘No? Oh Spock I’m sorry!’ She stepped closer. ‘Are you okay? Do you need to go to medical?’

‘No. The effects are short lived and merely unpleasant as opposed to life-threatening.’ he reassured her. ‘I think I shall however, retire for the evening.’

He made his farewells and concentrated on walking slowly and steadily out of the room. He managed not to turn and look for Nyota in the crowd as he left. His journey home seemed to take far longer than usual and when he stood to disembark from the hoverbus at the station near his building he nearly overbalanced.

* * *

He was awoken from a light doze by his front door chiming. It was 11:53 hours. Approximately. The chocolate he had unwittingly consumed had affected his sense of time. He sat up in bed and frowned. He was still fully dressed. He was even in his boots. The door chimed again. He could not think who would visit him at such an unsociable hour of the evening.

Somewhat unsteadily he made his way from his bedroom to the foyer of his apartment. The console by the door displayed an image of Nyota, still in her formal uniform, standing outside. That seemed a very obvious conclusion in hindsight. Spock was uncertain why it had not occurred to him.

He triggered the door and then slumped back against the wall. He felt very drained. He blinked several times and then Nyota was suddenly right in front of him, looking up at him in confusion and concern. ‘Spock? Are you alright?’ she queried.

Her confusion was understandable.

Spock stared down at her and attempted to formulate an appropriate response. He was not ‘alright’ - he had been drugged, and yet he was not in any sort of danger, so perhaps he _was_ ‘alright’.

She stepped closer to him and pressed a palm to his brow, an affectation his mother had often indulged in. Illogical since his body temperature was higher than that of a human’s and it was a highly inaccurate method to gauge temperature at any rate. Spock did not vocalise any of this however, instead he turned his face into Nyota’s hand and nuzzled into her. He could feel a dim hint of her thoughts, an intriguing trickle into his skin.

She giggled. ‘Spock if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were drunk.’

‘An accurate enough assessment.’ he remarked, his lips brushing against her hand as she spoke.

‘I didn’t think Vulcans could get drunk?’ she asked, smiling up at him as he pressed kissed into her palm.

Spock deigned to illuminate her. ‘There are certain substances which have a similar effect upon us as alcohol does on humans.’

‘Oh! Is this one of those Vulcan Secrets everyone always talks about?’ she exclaimed excitedly. ‘Like how you only have sex once every seven years and you can kill people with your fearsome telepathic powers?’

 _‘Eschak’_ he corrected her absently.

‘Eschak?’ she asked curiously. ‘I don’t know that word. What dialect is that?’

‘That is unsurprising. It is High Vulcan.’ It occurred to him that he would like to kiss her. Straightening himself from the wall seemed like it would require too much effort however. Later perhaps. ‘It’s literal translation is “the killing gift”.’ he concluded by rote.

Nyota was looking up at him with a strange expression on her face. With concentrated co-ordination, Spock lifted a hand and curled around her cheek. ‘You are very beautiful.’ he felt obliged to inform her. Vulcans were honest after all, and it was fact.

‘Wait, you mean you can kill people with your minds?’ she asked in confusion, ignoring his declaration of his appreciation of her attractiveness entirely.

Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘I have certainly never attempted such a thing.’

‘But it’s a real thing?’ she asked in disbelief.

‘In ancient times there were several psionic abilities that were deadly. They were highly sort after by the Warlords of the High Clans and the basis of much of the eugenics of the time.’

‘Eugenics?!’ Nyota hissed in shock.

‘Many Vulcan features, from our inner eyelids to our telepathy, were intentionally bred into our species through primitive, though widespread, eugenics programs.’ Spock tilted his head in contemplation. ‘I suppose they do not teach such things in Federation Xenoculture class.’ he remarked.

‘No they don’t.’ Nyota agreed.

Spock fell silent and slowly stroked his fingers over the the soft skin of her cheek. Again he thought of kissing her. Of moving from his position safely propped against the wall. He had almost worked up the necessary willpower for the task when she spoke again.

‘So what was it that put you in such a chatty mood?’ she asked turning their conversation back to its starting point.

‘Lieutenant F’haran unwittingly gave me a beverage containing cacao.’ Spock replied, shifting his fingers to slide along her hair. She wore it up in a manner he had not observed on her before. A braided bun atop her head. It reminded him somewhat of Vulcan styles. He imagined it would fall in waves when she unbound it. The thought of her hair loose about her bare shoulders, down her back, was both very pleasing and very distracting.

Nyota blinked up at him in shock. ‘Cocoa?’ her face split into a wide smile. ‘ _Chocolate?’_

As expected she found the idea humorous.

Spock huffed. ‘And you wonder why my race keep so much from humans.’ he remarked idly.

She laughed shortly then pressed a kiss to his jaw. ‘I’m sorry Spock. I won’t tease you.’ She peered up at him intently. ‘So what does chocolate do to you?’

She bit her lip in an apparent effort to stave off laughter.

Spock narrowed his eyes. ‘You find this situation far more amusing than warranted. I was, for all intents and purposes, poisoned.’

She shook her head. Wide-eyed. ‘I wouldn’t dream of implying that the fact that chocolate makes you drunk is in anyway amusing.’

‘Hmm.’ he said. ‘You have forgotten my fearsome Vulcan telepathy. Perhaps I am reading your mind right now little human.’

She giggled again. It was a pleasing sound. ‘Spock!’ she admonished him. ‘You’re _smiling!’_

He most certainly was not. He would be aware were he to do such a thing. ‘You are lying again my Nyota.’

Shaking her head she pressed her fingers to his mouth, tracing along his lips. Spock interrupted her before she could prove her point however – by turning and lightly biting her fingers. She shrieked and laughed again. ‘Spock!’

‘Whab?’ he mumbled around her fingers.

Nyota’s face screwed up and her laughter increased. Spock felt his lips twitching and struggled to keep from joining her.

‘I find that I am exceedingly fatigued.’ he remarked from his position slumped against the wall once she had recovered her wits and her fingers.

‘About to pass out you mean?’ she corrected him.

Spock glared at her.

She poked out her tongue at him.

‘ _However’_ he continued, ‘I believe I shall require assistance preparing for rest.’

‘I don’t know Spock, you’re doing a stellar job holding that wall up.’

‘You are teasing me. You said you would not tease me.’ he replied petulantly.

She pressed hands to his shoulders and leant up to kiss him. He felt her smile against his lips. A curious sensation. She drew back slightly to address him again. ‘You’re just too fun to tease Spock-kam.’

Spock pouted slightly. ‘… You infer I am a child with use of a diminutive term of affection.’

‘Perhaps I merely wished to express an innocent affection.’ she replied evasively.

‘As you are fluent in 4 dialects of Vuhlkansu I am certain you are familiar with far more appropriate ways of expressing affection for me in place of a term commonly employed by parents in address to their children.’

‘Hmm. I’m not sure. You Vulcans are so prickly. I wouldn’t want to offend you…’ she gave him a look he suspected was feigned innocence. ‘… _Spock-kam_.’ she concluded pointedly.

He huffed indignantly.

‘Oh very well. Perhaps I shall call you…’ she paused and tapped a finger to her chin. ‘ _Petakov-veh?’_

She was clearly attempting to provoke him. ‘ _Cute_?’ he replied stonily.

‘Okay fine. How about _takou-veh?_ ’ she asked, her eyes wide and guileless.

‘I can feel your amusement _Nyota-kam._ ’ he remarked. ‘I know full well you are mocking me.’

‘You do not like _takou-veh_ Spock-kam? But it’s true! You are very pretty.’

Spock attempted to look suitably unimpressed without over balancing. He was having difficulty focusing and as a result his apartment appeared to be spinning.

‘You are very hard to please.’ she added.

‘ _Duh-veh_.’ he countered.

She gasped in mock outrage. ‘Foolish-one? Me? You’re a mean drunk Spock- _kam._ ’

He sighed.

Nyota reached up and stroked a hand down the side of his face. ‘Oh, have I upset you _ashal-veh (darling-one)?’_ she cooed at him, still smiling.

His heart did a strange unsettling thing deep in his chest. _Ashal-veh._ Spock regarded her carefully. She did not appear to be ‘teasing’ him anymore. _‘Ashal-veh?’_ he inquired warily.

She nodded. ‘Mmhm. You like that one don’t you?’ she asked smiling softly.

Spock managed to press his face against hers without falling over or otherwise humiliating his people with his inability to effectively metabolise cacao. ‘It is agreeable.’ He paused. ‘ _Ashalik duh-veh. (darling foolish-one)’_

‘Hey!’ she exclaimed, but Spock felt her amusement.

He pulled her unsteadily into his arms and inhaled deeply. Her scent jarred him unpleasantly. ‘You smell of the Admiral.’ he informed her sulkily.

She turned her head to meet his eyes, laughter gone and concern evident in her expression. ‘Perhaps I will have a shower?’ she ventured.

Yes that would be prudent. He did not wish to smell another man on her. Even with his hands on her and her guileless innocence there for him to feel, it made his skin itch. ‘That would be… good.’

She stepped back but kept her hands firmly clasped with his, smiling once more. ‘I’d offer you an invitation _ashal-veh,_ but I’m concerned that in your current condition you might fall over and drown.’ She bit her lip. ‘Although I’m not sure I should pass up the opportunity to see a wet, drunk Vulcan.’


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite my best efforts, this story has developed something vaguely approaching a plot.

**Nyota**

‘Well?’ Nyota inquired, gesturing towards her uniform.

Spock looked up from his position perched atop his bed. His dark eyes flicked over her from head to toe. ‘Your appearance is satisfactory.’ he replied shortly.

She pouted and rolled her eyes. ‘ _Satisfactory._ ’ she muttered. ‘What about my hair? It look doesn’t too…’ She twisted her mouth to one side. ‘… girly?’ she concluded patting at the twisted braid.

‘I am uncertain what would constitute a ‘girly’ hair style.’ Spock drawled. At her huff he quirked an eyebrow and elaborated. ‘You are groomed in an appropriately professional manner to serve as a representative of Starfleet in an official capacity.’

She supposed she’d have to be content with that. He wasn’t about to start waxing poetic about how beautiful she was, well, not unless she slipped him a chocolate bar. ‘Well, I suppose that’s the look I’m aiming for.’ she said. ‘ _Thanks._ ’

Spock gave her a look she didn’t really understand and then returned his attention to the PADD he was reading. Although she was certain if she asked him he would deny it, she suspected he was sulking.

‘I wish I didn’t have to go to this stupid dinner.’ she remarked as she dug through her bag for her earrings. The statement wasn’t entirely true - whilst the dinner would undoubtedly be dry and boring, she didn’t particularly mind - but she wanted to remind her jealous, emotionally repressed Vulcan that she wasn’t ditching him of her own choosing.

‘It is standard procedure for fourth year xenolinguistic students to serve as translators when the Federation Diplomatic Corps. has need of them in San Franciso.’ Spock reminded her tonelessly without looking up from his PADD. What was he reading that was so interesting anyway?

Nyota eyed him as she threaded a pair of polished kolari fire gems through her ears. A gift from Gaila. They matched the red of her uniform. She stepped back into Spock’s ensuite and checked her reflection one last time. There was a good half hour before she needed to leave to get to the function hall where the dinner she would be attending was to be held. It was only a short hoverbus ride from Spock’s building. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hang around his apartment until then however. He was in one of moods. She frowned at her reflection and glanced out the bedroom door.

Her closeness to Spock had proven something of a revelation. For a race who claimed not to feel emotions, he certainly behaved like a moody teenager at times. She wondered, not for the first time, if this was true of all Vulcans and that icy cool demeanour they displayed was just show, or if Spock’s personality was an aberration caused by his human DNA.

‘Well,’ she started as she re-entered his bedroom. He glanced up to regard her with a blank Vulcan stare that seemed contrived. ‘I might head out early. Stop and have a coffee or something.’ she continued airily and brushed at non-existent lint on her jacket. ‘I think a few cadets from my Xenoling. III class were given this assignment as well.’ she added.

‘Cadets Ling, Gallman and Zu’mos.’ he informed her.

‘Oh? Cadet Zu’mos?’ she inquired perking up. The Rigelian Cadet was one of her more pleasant classmates. She had wicked sense of humour. At least Nyota would have someone to commiserate with and help the evening pass less tediously.

‘Indeed.’ Spock confirmed his eyes back on his PADD.

Nyota huffed out a breath at his chilly tone but refused to acknowledge it. ‘I might just head straight back to the Academy after the dinner.’ she informed him evenly, gauging his reaction.

His dark head snapped up and his eyes bored into hers. ‘We agreed you would return here.’ he replied tersely.

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you _want_ me here? Because at the moment that’s not the vibe I’m getting.’

He pursed his lips minutely. ‘If I found the arrangement unsatisfactory I would have informed you.’

‘Because Vulcans don’t lie?’ she asked sceptically.

‘Correct.’

She restrained the urge to roll her eyes. ‘Then tell me what’s got you so upset.’

‘I am not upset.’ he replied shortly.

‘ _Fine._ ’ she searched for a synonym he’d accept. ‘What is causing your… _concern_?’

He remained stubbornly silent.

‘Agitation?’ she tried.

He was looked at his PADD again, ignoring her.

Irritated, Nyota crossed the room to stand beside him and held out her hand to him.

He glanced up and regarded her warily and then looked down at her hand as if it was a blue tentacle or something.

‘Show me then.’ she said. ‘Or reassure yourself that I have no intentions of running off with some old diplomat or whatever crazy thing it is you are stressing about.’

Spock exhaled through his nose. ‘I am aware of the irrational nature of some of my thoughts with regards to you Nyota. There is no need. I will meditate on the matter until my control is re-established.’

Nyota was impressed. That was almost an apology. She did not lower her hand however. _‘I_ would feel better if you shared my thoughts.’ she said. She didn’t want him sitting here brooding when simply holding her hand for a few moments was usually enough to snap him out of whatever moody funk he was in.

His shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. ‘Very well.’

Nyota smiled and lifted her hand to twist her fingers against his. First she felt that pleasant, tingly, electric sensation, and then the vague shape of his mind. His thoughts were like clouds. Vapour. Smoke. Insubstantial but very much real. She was surprised at what she sensed. She’d been expecting vague jealously, instead she felt bright hot, _impotent,_ anger.

‘Spock?’ she asked in concern. ‘What is it?’ He tried to pull his hand from hers but she tightened her grip. ‘Please.’ she insisted. There was a chill pause as he pulled himself from her, separated their thoughts, and then he gripped her other hand as well, strengthening the connection and she felt his thoughts once more.

She saw herself with a strained smile standing _(too-close)_ to Admiral Komack _(disrespectful-one)_ with his hands on her body, rubbing against her obscenely in a caricature of a waltz as furious _burning_ anger simmered deep inside her. And then she was looking down at her own happily smiling face and there was a pleasant warm feeling deep in her chest _(ashal-veh?)_ that turned to stone when she smelt _him_ (Komack), the scent of his lust painted all over her. A burning jealous rage flared up inside -

Nyota blinked. The vivid memories faded and the connection muted back to its usual level.

Spock stilled and met her gaze. She felt… shame? He was embarrassed by his anger and jealously since he knew both to be illogical. He felt betrayed by his biological functions that had left him vulnerable to such emotion. None of this he could explain to her in words, but he tried to make her understand without them. His earnest attempt made her heart ache in sympathy. She had not really considered it before, the fact that for a Vulcan, what he felt for her, these jealous emotions, were like a sickness, a wound. They felt unnatural to him. They hurt him.

Nyota stepped closer still, dropping one of his hands so she could cradle his head against her belly. Soothing, comforting. ‘ _It is just a dinner Spock._ ’ she reassured him in his native tongue _. ‘I’ll only be there a few hours.’_

He sighed into the cloth of her uniform. _‘I am aware. I will meditate.’_ He was silent for a moment and when he spoke again it was in standard and his thoughts were not so tense. ‘You were correct. Sharing this… feeling…. illogical as I know it to be, was helpful.’

She smiled and looked down at him, ruffling his black hair fondly. ‘Well, as a human I _do_ have more experience dealing with illogical feelings than you ashal-veh.’ A little warm burst of his muted Vulcan affection, (appreciation?), seeped through his fingers as she called him by the Vulcan term of endearment. Her smile widened and she dipped her head and pressed a kiss to his face.

After she straightened he tilted his head and looked up at her, his dark eyes intent. That little warm feeling suddenly became much bigger and much warmer. His fingers slowly twisted against hers, those hot tingly sparks zapping across her skin. Nyota swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth. ‘You do not need to depart for the Diplomatic Dinner for another 28.3 minutes by my estimation.’ he informed her.

‘Oh? Is that so?’ she asked innocently. One of his hands slid up the back of her thigh to settle in a warm band just beneath the curve of her butt. He tugged her closer. She narrowed her eyes at his intentions but complied. The hand smoothed up over her ass and pulled at the zip on her skirt.

Nyota let the material slide down her legs but gave Spock a look. ‘Presumptuous much?’

He leant forward and mouthed the soft skin above her hip bone with just the barest suggestion of teeth before pulling back to meet her gaze. ‘You would deny me?’ he inquired in a voice that was very low and very sexy and _very_ close to being smug. ‘Are you not mine?’

She sighed but her mouth curled into a little smile.

* * *

 

She did arrive in time for the pre-dinner mixer. No thanks to her weird Vulcan… _boyfriend? Lover?_ She didn’t know what to call him, her strange Vulcan. Hmm. 'Her Vulcan'? Well it was fitting since he constantly referred to _her_ as his _._ If she was his human than logic dictated he was her Vulcan. Even he’d be unable to argue with that. Her brain approved of the justification and the matter was settled.

She had arrived in time for the mixer no thanks to _her Vulcan_. He’d let her remove her neat, crease-free uniform and lay it out so it would remain that way, and then spent almost the entirety of those 28-point-whatever minutes at their disposal making her loudly and repeatedly, tell him that she was his.

Despite her perfect uniform she’d felt decidedly rumpled by the time she rushed from his apartment. Spock for his part had seemed far too relaxed and irritatingly unconcerned. He’d bid her farewell looking rumpled and tempting with his hair in disarray, his cheeks faintly flushed and a pair of loose pants more or less falling off his hips. The kiss he’d given her at the door had been warm and lingering and very distracting. His attempts to delay her departure had been transparent and yet he’d still managed to detain her an extra five minutes.

She’d ended up taking a hovertaxi in place of the bus just to shave a few minutes of her trip and had still been the last cadet to arrive.

Nyota took a sip of champagne and glanced around the reception hall in an attempt to calm herself. She was vividly and uncomfortably aware that less than an hour previously she’d been pinned naked beneath Spock begging to be fucked. Her cheeks flamed at the memory. She quickly looked around, noting a bald Deltan and a dark-eyed Betazoid, both mercifully far from her. She would not be going anywhere near any telepaths this evening.

Despite her hurried attempts at freshening up before she redressed, her panties were still damp. She felt like there was a big sign flashing above her head advertising that fact. Something like: _‘Nyota Uhura - Slutty human girl with Vulcan semen in her panties!’_ She gave the Orions present an even wider berth then the telepaths. If Gaila’s nose was anything to go off, the flashing sign theory was probably pretty accurate in regards to them.

Spotting a group of diplomats free of telepaths or owners of over-developed noses, Nyota introduced herself and her services were politely accepted. Around her the three Andorians, a human and a Tellarite discussed a border dispute between the Cardassians and the Federation over a mineral rich asteroid field. The agreement that had been brokered with Cardassian Union over it was the cause of the celebratory dinner. It was a great achievement to come to _any_ sort of peaceful terms with the xenophobic Cardassians. Their only worthwhile, _peaceful,_ contribution to the Alpha Quadrant in the last few thousand years was the Cardassian Sunrise.

The diplomats around her were using standard, but every now and then one would query her in an aside for a translation of a particular word or phrase in their native tongue. The conversation turned to speak with grudging admiration for the Federation diplomats who had brokered the deal. The Tellarite gruffly requested the correct honorific form of reference for a Vulcan T’Sai, or in Tellarite - a ‘Victorious Female’, and Nyota listened in interest as he revealed that the Vulcan diplomat who had led the talks was the son of the revered Lady T’Pau of Vulcan.

It was agreed that T’Pau’s clan had produced some worthy individuals and then amused disparaging remarks were exchanged about Vulcans whom the group did not find as praiseworthy. Apparently the Vulcan Ambassador to Tellar had ‘green milk in his veins’. Nyota struggled to keep her voice even as she provided translation for that comment into standard. The Andorians tittered.

Tellarites disliked pretty much everyone and the Andorian Empire and the Confederacy of Vulcan had spent almost three centuries in violent disagreement, so the gossiping of the diplomats was hardly surprising. She was asked to provide translation for several further unorthodox phrases. One of the Andorians winked and twitched her antennae at her when the Tellarite referred to a Vulcan Minister on the Federation Council as an ‘honourless, soft-toothed, fruit-eating, desert lizard’ and Nyota had to bite her lip to stop from snorting. She could imagine the precise way Spock’s left eyebrow would raise in disapproval and confusion at the comment. _Fruit-eating._

There was a vivid mix of species present so even when the conversation settled down to the less outrageous and more mundane, she did not find the evening as boring as she had feared. There were members of the major Federation powers - Andorians, Tellarites, Orions, and Vulcans, but also a few dozen assorted representatives from minor colonies and worlds that were located within 5 lightyears of the asteroid field under dispute. Most of them were humanoid variants with only small discernible differences to a Terran, but some were magnificently _alien._ There were three seven foot tall pale green individuals with four arms each, a group of diminutive figures in robes that had feathered crests in place of hair and a jelly-fish like species that seemed to float through the air glowing softly and humming.

Owing to her extensive study and unusually large repertoire of xenolanguages, Nyota found herself reassigned from the amusing Tellarite and Andorian diplomats to be passed around amidst the representatives of the more exotic, little known Federation planets and systems whilst the other translators worked with the more commonplace dialects.

She found conversing such diverse individuals quite enlightening and the rest of her evening passed enjoyably enough.

When she returned to Spock at 11:32 hours he pulled her into his arms and inhaled deeply. Nyota tensed slightly, wondering if the smells of a room full of aliens had somehow rubbed off on her.

‘You smell of champagne.’ he declared. ‘And _me_.’

He sounded very pleased with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not, there is still lots of smut on its way.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty dry, but rest assured there are a few 'lively' ones coming up.

**Spock**

‘What happened with your father?’ his mother inquired, her concern evident even across 15 lightyears of Subspace.

Spock raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘I am uncertain what you refer to mother. I have not spoken to Sarek.’

She frowned. ‘Then nothing has happened? Nothing that would have upset him?’

He was uncertain why she was making such inquires of him. He would be the last person to be aware of what might be weighing upon his father’s mind. ‘Mother, since my departure from Vulcan I have not had any contact with father, direct, indirect or otherwise save via yourself.’

His mother sighed. ‘I am certain something is worrying him.’ She gave him a pointed look. ‘Something about you.’

Spock thought for a moment. ‘I cannot think of any situation which would give him cause for concern.’ he said. ‘There have been no changes in my circumstances or any events of interest related to me that he would be aware of and which might give him cause to “worry”.’ he replied evasively. A thought occurred to him. ‘Perhaps some diplomatic disagreement has occurred between Starfleet and Vulcan High Command.’

His mother nodded thoughtfully. ‘That is possible. He _does_ practically flinch whenever Starfleet is mentioned.’

Spock thought it likely. His father had, quite illogically, grown wary and scathing of Starfleet after his admission to the Academy. An irrational reflection of his disapproval for Spock’s choices.

His mother sighed. ‘He is in Paris at the moment, sorting out the last of that Cardassian business, and he will be on Earth for another month. It would please me greatly if you were to at least attempt to see him.’

Spock did not deign to offer a response. None that he could give would satisfy his mother.

She gave him a very emotional, very _human_ look – all wide shiny eyes and delicately furrowed brow - from the comm console. Inwardly Spock groaned. ‘Please darling. You are not so stubborn as he.’ she pleaded. ‘I need _you_ to be the mature one in this instance.’

‘You are perfectly aware that unless it is to inform him of a decision to resign my commission and return to Vulcan in penitence, Sarek will not welcome word from me mother.’ he replied wearily.

‘Please Spock? It would mean a great deal to me.’

‘What would you have me tell him? He has no interest in my work or career.’ Spock asked.

‘You need not say anything. The mere fact that you contacted him, even if it is only to observe inane Terran niceties pertaining to the weather, or to discuss your illogical human mother, would please me.’ She paused. ‘And your father may surprise you.’ she said. ‘He regrets how you have become estranged, you might find him open to reconciliation.’

Again Spock restrained the urge to sigh. He had no desire to speak of Sarek. It was a topic of conversation he found tiresome and frustrating. ‘I anticipate extreme circumstance would be necessary to facilitate that.’ Perhaps if he were to contact his father to inform him he had been promoted to Fleet Admiral and named Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet. Or that he’d engineered some sort of scientific breakthrough and would be returning to Vulcan to sit on the Science Academy Board...

Amanda shrugged. ‘Maybe, maybe not. He is capable of making his own decision, of ignoring T’Pau and the High Council when he feels it is warranted.’

Spock raised an eyebrow. In his experience Sarek had never once demonstrated the willingness his mother referred to. He felt an old bitterness rise within him, cold and painful.

‘He did not feel it warranted to defend his wife or son when we were belittled as inferior beings by the Board of Vulcan Science Academy.’ he snapped.

His mother froze in surprise, her eyes widening and her breath coming in a gasp.

Spock felt himself respond in similar shock – his body feezing and his spine stiffening. He had not spoken to his mother in such a transparently emotional manner since he was a child. And he had never spoken of the particulars which resulted in his refusal of his place at the Science Academy and acceptance of one at the Starfleet Academy. To do so would only cause her un-necessary distress. Which he had just done.

‘Forgive my emotional outburst mother. I have not had sufficient meditation of late and my mastery of Venilahr is not what it should be.’

Amanda frowned and met his gaze in the intense scrutiny of a concerned human mother. The attention was somehow both comforting and disconcerting at the same time. ‘Spock. What is wrong?’ she asked in a low voice.

Spock took a deep breath. He was tempted to tell her, to speak to her of his situation. Apart from his father she alone might be able to offer insight. But although his mother was not bound by Vulcan principles of honesty and would attempt to keep a confidence if he asked it of her, she was bonded to a Vulcan. It would be nearly impossible for her to shield her thoughts from his father entirely, and Sarek would know she was hiding something from him.

He could not speak of it to her.

‘It is as I said mother, I have not meditated sufficiently of late.’ It was not a lie, but it was not the entire truth.

She did not look convinced.

‘I have found interactions with humans to be even more… unfathomable than usual of late.’ he elaborated. Again, not a lie, but not the whole truth. His mother looked slightly mollified, enough to let the matter rest at least.

‘You know I am happy to help you in any way Spock.’ she said ‘If any of your colleagues or students are confusing you I would be glad to offer my insight.’

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement. His mother had indeed offered useful clarification and advice during his tenure in Starfleet, but in this case he could not prevail upon her expertise. He had to sort out the mess that was his personal association with Nyota Uhura himself.

* * *

He did not contact the Vulcan Embassy and leave word for his father. Not only was the strain in their relationship holding him back, but he was concerned the situation with Nyota would have a negative effect upon his emotional control and his father would note the change. And his interest would not be so easy as his mother’s to dismiss.

Spock also had an irrational fear that his father would take one look at him and somehow _know_ what he had been doing. Know that he was keeping a human woman, one of his _students_ at that, as a lover in a strange perversion of both Vulcan and Terran custom. It was impossible to keep anything hidden from Sarek of Vulcan. As a child that had always been the case. He could imagine the disapproval that would mar Sarek’s face at the revelation. Especially if he were to realise that Nyota did not understand the extent of the connection between them, that Spock was being… dishonest with her.

Instead of contacting his father, Spock made his way to the C block refectory and partook of his midday meal at a later hour than was his usual custom. He took a seat near the windows which afforded him a view of the south entrance to the D block. There was a small grassed area utilised by students for relaxation and recreation in between the two buildings. He observed several male cadets tossing a football for the apparent edification of the group of female cadets sitting and eating their lunch nearby. Two of them had removed their shirts to display their physiques despite the fact that it was winter. He suspected the illogical display had to do with the Starfleet Academy Gala that would be held two Terran weeks hence. Undoubtedly the male cadets wished to obtain 'dates' in the human tradition for the event. Though why any woman would find a man who risked illness by willingly exposing himself to the elements attractive defied reason.

At precisely 15:03 Nyota appeared on the steps leading down from D Block. She was accompanied by two of her classmates. A Rigellian female - Cadet Zu’mos, and a large human male – Cadet Hendorff. The two cadets were her closest companions in the class she had just attended. The trio crossed the grassed area together, avoiding the football and the cadets chasing it, before exchanging waves and words of farewell. Nyota turned left to head towards her next class across the campus and Zu’mos and Hendorff continued towards the refectory.

From his vantage point Spock was able to maintain visual contact with Nyota for a period of 137 seconds. It was not long enough, but he found himself more centred than he had been when he had sat down with his tray 22.3 minutes earlier. He anticipated it would be at 4.7 hours before he saw her again. He felt an uncomfortable pang.

It was too long.

Perhaps he would cross the campus after his last lecture of the day concluded at 17:00 hours and observe her as she made her way to her own last class of the day. 1.9 hours was far more acceptable than 4.7.

* * *

 

**Nyota**

Spock apparently approved of the dress she’d chosen for the Academy Gala. He’d stared at her in a manner that seemed, to her and Gaila at least, pretty transparently lustful. For a Vulcan that was. For her own part she was glad to be out of her dress uniform. The gala was the one Academy function where uniform was optional rather than compulsory, and lately it seemed like she’d been dragged to some stuffy soiree in her stiff dress reds every other weekend.

At least she was able to wear a dress and admire Spock at his particular event. Like most of the men in attendance, he’d not acted upon the opportunity to avoid his uniform. That fact didn’t upset her at all. His grey Commander’s dress uniform was much nicer than the Cadet’s variant and she rarely got to see him in it. It somehow made him look even taller and more handsome than his darker instructor’s uniform. If that was possible.

When she’d stopped to politely greet the Head of the Linguists Department – Professor Jones - and he’d given her a brief look she interpreted as approval for her appearance, she’d been unable to resist the urge to torment him. She’d stood beside him and studiously maintaining eye contact with Professor Jones, swapped her flute of champagne from her right to her left hand, lowing the former and ‘accidentally’ brushing her fingers against the back of Spock’s hand.

He’d flinched almost imperceptibly and she taken an immature delight in the tiny movement.

The remainder of the evening she spent trying not to gaze longingly at him across the room or otherwise draw attention to herself or act like an idiot. She and Gaila were intending to go out dancing after the formal part of the evening was concluded. Getting drunk with bored officers on shore leave and Academy teaching staff wasn’t either of their ideas of a good time.

Although Nyota had to admit, the prospect of admiring Spock in his _wonderfully_ tailored uniform was almost enough to make her consider staying purely to loiter near the buffet and stare at him. She tilted her head to the side and allowed herself a moment to stare at him across the hall. The tall lean shape of him, his perfect posture, broad shoulders and dark hair made her sigh into her champagne.

Three hours in and the presentations were over and the attendees were getting stuck into the bar in earnest. Gaila caught her eye and motioned towards the exit. Nyota nodded then turned to try and locate Spock to bid him farewell. She scanned the ballroom twice but there were no tall, devastatingly handsome Vulcans Commanders in sight. She had not had the opportunity to speak privately with him in two days, so she hadn't informed him of her plans for the evening. There was a good chance he was expecting her at his apartment. She'd been spending most of her free time there of late.

Slightly disappointed she made her way towards the exit. There were little groups of students and Starfleet personnel standing in the outer foyer and thoroughfares of the building. Nyota waved at a few friends but continued towards the exit. She and Gaila were going to change before heading out. Hopefully she’d beat the Orion back to their dorm and get dibs on the shower.

As she approached the wide stairs that led to the main foyer and exit, she noted the presence of Jim Kirk. Her steps faltered. He was talking very loudly and slapping a dark haired man in a Cadet’s uniform on the back a lot. Nyota pondered for a moment before turning to take one of the smaller side exits. She wasn’t in the mood for Kirk’s over the top flirting. She passed a bank of turbolifts and started down the stairs that would take her outside. Hearing someone approach she looked up automatically. A tall figure was headed up the stairs towards her. She stopped in surprise.

Spock.

He met her eyes with his own muted Vulcan variation upon the feeling. He stopped a respectable distance from her, two steps below where she stood. It had the added side-effect… benefit? of placing him exactly on the same level as her. She glanced down at his lips before she could stop herself.

‘Cadet Uhura.’ he greeted her formally, hands clasped behind his back as per usual.

She nodded. ‘Commander Spock.’ she returned.

His voice was cool and emotionless but his eyes were boring into hers in a way that made her think perhaps there would be retaliation for her early casual caress of his hand.

‘You are departing?’ he inquired perfectly politely.

‘Yes sir. My room-mate and I are going dancing.’ He raised an eyebrow and Nyota felt his disapproval. ‘We go dancing once a month – I promised.’ she explained before he could voice an opinion on the matter. Tempt her with his own company in place of Gaila’s.

He was silent for a long moment before nodding minutely. ‘In that case I will bid you good evening… Nyota.’ They were quite alone, but his use of her first name seemed dangerous, sent a little nervous thrill through her. She swallowed. He was staring at her intently, awaiting a response. She blinked. As often seemed to be the case where Spock was involved, she had a sudden and completely irrational urge – she wanted very much to kiss him. Just a small kiss. A goodnight kiss? That wasn’t… weird. She’d glanced at his lips again before she realised what she was doing. She wouldn’t even have to reach, standing below her he was at just the right height to –

He stepped up, closer, and she could smell his aftershave or cologne or whatever it was that he wore that always smelt _so good_ and then his fingers brushed against hers by her thigh. She stifled a gasp as a shot of pure heat passed from his skin to hers like an electric shock. It filled her up, expanded inside her until she felt like she was suffering from a full body blush. She took a deep breath and unwittingly inhaled another deep whiff of _him_ and then with a pathetic little whine of defeat, she threw her arms around those broad shoulders of his and kissed him.

 It was his own fault.

 She would have been fine, behaved perfectly respectably, but he’d used his goddamned insatiably hot telepathic fingers on her. He didn’t appear at all angered by her reaction however. In fact he roughly pulled her against him and proceeded to conduct a very thorough exploration of her mouth with his hot Vulcan tongue. And groped her ass. Nyota groaned and tried to get a hold of herself. She’d _promised_ herself that there would be no more touching, kissing and certainly no more _fucking_ on the Academy campus - they'd _agreed_ on it... and yet here she was trying to shove her hand under his dress jacket in the hopes of locating warm Vulcan skin with a rapidly swelling warm Vulcan erection pressed against her hip. In the middle of stairway. Not even a fire exit or service entrance – a perfectly normal stairway in regular use. It was the classroom all over again. She pulled her mouth from his and tried to catch her breath.

Spock didn’t help, he turned his attention to her neck, kissing and licking her sensitised skin and making her gasp and pant all over again. Well, a few more moments couldn’t -

Abruptly he released her. She stumbled, almost fell, managed to balance herself on the balustrade.

Spock was standing three steps below her and to the right. She felt the distance between them keenly. But. Well, that was good? She’d been about to tell him they ought to stop anyway… His fringe was slightly mused. Absently she leant forward and brushed it into order with her fingers. He gave her an odd look but made no comment upon the gesture. Her hand settled back by her thigh and she regarded him awkwardly.

As if from underwater she heard voices and footsteps approaching. She inhaled sharply and glanced over her shoulder. Someone was coming. _Thank god_ he’d been paying attention. She took a deep breath and met his eyes. ‘Goodnight Commander.’ she offered.

He nodded serenely, feigning disinterest like only a Vulcan could. If it hadn’t been her throat he’d just had his tongue shoved down, she’d never have believed he’d just been kissing someone. He looked entirely unaffected by their exchange.

She couldn’t resist glancing at his pants. She bit her lip and tried not to smirk.

Well, perhaps not entirely unaffected.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of stalker!spock continue.

**Spock**

Spock made his farewells and departed soon after his encounter with Nyota Uhura in the stair well.

Returning to his apartment he stripped off his dress uniform and placed it in the refresher. He re-dressed in terran clothing. Dark trousers in course denim, a long sleeved shirt not dis-similar to his Starfleet undershirt, a dark jacket in a synthetic material and a scarf. He then combed his hair back off his face and donned a soft terran head-covering which he pulled low over his ears.

Even after several years on Earth, he found it odd to see himself dressed in such a manner, but the clothing served several quite logical purposes. Firstly, it was much more suited to the chilled San Francisco winter than his Starfleet uniform or Vulcan robes, and secondly he had noted that when clad in such a manner he attracted very little attention. The hat pulled over his ears not only kept them comfortably warm, they enabled him, at a glance, to pass as a human.

Given his intentions for the evening, that would be useful.

Outside his building his breath misted in the cold night air and Spock tucked his scarf underneath his jacket for additional warmth. Winter on Earth was decidedly unpleasant. From previous observation he estimated that Nyota and her Orion room-mate would leave their dormitory between 22:12 and 23:12 hours. They usually took approximately 1 standard hour to dress for an evening out. He was seated at one of the benches outside their accommodation building at 21:57. As he waited for them to emerge he thought upon his work. Admiral Barnett had requested several changes to the Koyabashi Maru simulation and Spock could think of a variety of different ways to suitably adjust the coding of the program. He was uncertain which would be the most logical and expedient and attempted to ascertain that fact as he waited. It helped distract him from the illogical and irrational way he was behaving.

At 23:19 hours loud laughter drew his attention to the main entrance of the student accommodation block. Nyota’s Orion room-mate, dressed in a white dress that revealed far more green skin than it covered, (Spock repressed a sympathetic shiver just looking at her), had one hand held to her mouth and was snorting in apparent amusement. Next to her Nyota Uhura was smiling widely, her mouth opening and closing as she said something. Even with his superior Vulcan hearing, Spock could not make out her words.

Instead of attempting to listen in on their conversation he found himself staring at Nyota Uhura’s dress. It was green. There was slightly more of it than the garment he had observed her in several months earlier, a concession to the season he supposed, but not a great deal. Although it covered her arms and was slightly longer than her cadet’s uniform, it was exceedingly tight and left her shoulders bare. Judging from the way it clung to her breasts, he suspected that she was not wearing anything beneath it and the sheer patterned coverings upon her legs did little to conceal them, in fact they just seemed to draw attention to the long length of them. In additional her shoes appeared to defy the laws of physics.

Not for the first time, Spock found himself both irritated and pleased by her appearance. Her clothing displayed her body in a most favourable manner, which he appreciated, however the thought of her socialising with others whilst dressed in such a way threatened to awaken that possessive anger inside him. It was bad enough that he was loitering outside her dormitory without her knowledge. He ran through a breathing exercise and attempted to detach himself from his urges. He would not approach her. He would not drag her back to her dormitory and remind her that she was his, that she was not to dress in such a manner for anyone save himself.

He was able to compose himself, barely.

It was intolerable, his reaction to her. He knew the reason he felt compelled to watch over her was a Vulcan instinct. His race were territorial, possessive, _jealous._ They did not ‘date’. There was no such thing as a ‘casual’ relationship in their culture. The only ongoing sexual relationship a Vulcan cultivated was that with a mate. Which is what his subconscious seemed to regard her as. His mate.

He huffed an irritated breath into the cool night air. Normally in such a situation he would be mentally bonded to Nyota and able to monitor and observe from afar, his instincts to ensure her safety and fidelity satisfied in such a manner. Of course that was not an option he could consider in his current predicament, as much as the thought appealed to him.

Completely oblivious to his presence and the distress they were causing him, the two females turned and began walking towards the campus hoverbus stop. They stood very close to one another, talking animatedly and occasionally touching one another on the arm or shoulder for apparent emphasis. Spock followed them at a distance. They took seats near the front of the hoverbus so he boarded at the rear and remained out of sight. There were quite a few cadets aboard. Judging from their dress and behaviour, they were also leaving the campus for reasons of recreation. Many were still dressed in their formal wear and uniforms from the gala.

He carefully avoided giving any attention to the males present. He did not trust himself should he note any of them admiring Nyota given his current level of control. He could hear her voice. She was conversing not only with the Orion, but several of the other cadets seated nearby, discussing the club they intended to visit with enthusiasm.

They got off the bus, along with many of the other students, in an area of downtown San Francisco that contained a much higher concentration of restaurants, bars and other such recreational venues than the rest of the city. The crowd of cadets dispersed in different directions, talking and laughing to one another as they headed for bars and clubs of their choosing. Spock himself had begrudgingly visited several establishments in the vicinity as a Cadet and later in accompaniment of Captain Pike.

Three additional cadets fell into step with Nyota and the Orion, two more females and a male, and they made their way towards their stated destination as a group. Spock waited until they were some distance from him before pursuing them.

The view Nyota’s dress afforded him from behind was highly distracting. Her hair was pinned atop her head and he had an unimpeded view of the long line of her neck and the soft brown skin of her back. Every time she moved her arms, to wave or gesture, the flaring lines of her shoulder blades stood out in enticing relief. It was difficult to ignore the memories the sight of her bare skin reminded him viscerally of. He’d had his hand pressed to that cool skin only 2.8 hours previously. Had pressed his mouth against that enticing hollow where her neck met her shoulder. A wave of warmth spread over him to settle uncomfortably in his crotch. He clenched his jaw and forcefully dismissed his musings on the taste of her skin and the little breathy human noises she made when he kissed her there.

The club which he followed them to was not one of those he had visited previously. He was forced to display his identification chip before the staff at the entrance would allow him entry. Inside it was cold, loud, and smelt unpleasant. Since he was dressed as a human, he allowed himself the luxury of a small human sigh of distaste.

The club was comprised of several levels and different bars. Despite the relatively early hour, there were far too many people present for Spock’s comfort. He scanned the large room on the ground floor but did not see Nyota or any of her companions. The next level featured an Andorian woman singing jarringly in heavily accented standard and was marginally less busy. Again he could not see Nyota. A mild panic settled over him. Where was she? What had happened to her? He knew the chances of anything untoward befalling her in the minutes since he’d seen her enter the club were very low, but the feeling remained. The highest level of the building was split into three smaller bar areas. He found Nyota and the other cadets in the second he entered. The relief he felt when he spotted her slender figure was just as irrational as his panic had been. She was unharmed. She was safe. He calmed himself.

Although still busy, the bar they had chosen was less offensive to Spock then those he’d passed through. Most of those present seemed to be drinking and talking rather than deafening themselves or gyrating against one another. It was still too cold for his Vulcan comfort, but it was not unbearable. Nyota and her companions settled into seats around a table in one corner, elaborate alcoholic drinks in hand.

Spock carefully selected a seat at the bar which afforded him an unobstructed view of their table without making his own presence obvious. A boisterous trio of Bolians provided satisfactory cover. He was gratified to see that the male human in the group of cadets had his attention focused solely upon one of the other women and not Nyota.

He was torn from his silent observation by one of the bar servers.

‘What can I get for you?’

Spock regarded the man blandly. Usually when in such establishments he would partake of whatever unpleasant beverage his companions were drinking, typically ale or in the case of Captain Pike, whiskey. He had no particular desire for either and was on the verge of informing the server of his disinclination when he noted the unusual beverages the Bolians next to him were partaking of. They were bright green and Spock wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he detected a slight hissing noise emanating from them. Glancing back past the bartender he noted the myriad of non-terran intoxicants on display, as well as the sophisticated replicators.

‘I will have K’vass if you serve it.’ he replied. The Vulcan beverage was intoxicating to his race, but pleasant tasting and served _warm._ Something Spock could appreciate in the chilled recycled air of the bar.

The bartender nodded. ‘We do, don’t get much call for it though.’ His eyes darted upwards slightly to look at Spock’s eyebrows in interest. Spock ignored his impolite inspection.

The drink he was served was not as precisely mixed – it was overly sweetened - as that he would have encountered on Vulcan, but it was acceptable.

Nyota and her companions remained at their table drinking alcoholic beverages for a period of 2.2 hours. Periodically Nyota would pull out her small personal comm and look at it very intently. Spock wondering who was contacting her, or alternatively who she was expecting to. He told himself that he was not jealous. Her room-mate had just presented her with another drink, (her sixth by Spock’s count), when Nyota again set her attention up her communicator. Spock watched with interest as several expressions crossed her face. After a few minutes she seemed to come to some sort of decision and her fingers tapped decisively over the device.

To his amazement, Spock’s heard the soft chime indicating that he had received a message upon his own communicator. He pulled it from his pocket and regarded the small screen warily. It was from an unfamiliar civilian communicator frequency. Spock scanned the brief missive.

_You looked very handsome at the gala. I almost wish we hadn’t been interrupted._

He found himself staring at her across the room in shock. Him. She had been debating contacting _him._ The lingering jealously dissipated and he instead found himself quite… pleased. The urge to cross the room to her side welled strongly within him. Instead he turned back in his seat and drank deeply from the k’vass set before him. Nyota pulled out her comm three times over the next 12 minutes. It eventually occurred to Spock that she was anticipating a response from him.

He extracted his own device once more. What was the appropriate reply to such an illogical communication? He was uncertain. Eventually he simply settled on informing her that her missive, whilst illogical, was gratifying. It was the truth. She smiled very widely when she read his reply and Spock felt inordinately pleased.

She spent 8 minutes apparently composing another message before scowling, evidently changing her mind, and putting her comm away. Spock wished very much to know what she had been typing, the message she had not sent.

Shortly after their seventh round of drinks, the cadets rose to their feet. Two of them, the human male and one of the females, hugged the other members of the group before departing. The remaining three women headed downstairs to the large dancehall on the ground floor, laughing and twirling around each other unsteadily.

Spock followed, his mood plummeting once more.

All three were clearly exceedingly intoxicated and unsteady in their ridiculous terran footwear. He was concerned they would trip on the stairs and wished they’d elected to use the turbolifts.

Downstairs the ‘music’ was even louder than it had been earlier in the evening and there were far more patrons. The only improvement was that it was 3.8 degrees warmer owing to the body heat of the crowd. The smell had most certainly not been improved by their presence however. The body odour of a variety of different species mixed with a myriad of perfumes and the scent of different intoxicants into a thick unpleasant _fog_ that hung across the room. Spock breathed through his mouth.

The music was being played at such an excessive level that he could feel the vibration of the lower frequencies through his feet and eardrums. It was a disconcerting sensation. He suspected if he spent too long in the room he would soon develop a headache. Or nausea. The three women had joined hands and were weaving their way through the crowd towards the packed dance floor. Spock regarded them resentfully. He would not be following them _there._

Glancing around the room he observed little in the way of seating. Most of the guests stood around tall tables and yelled at each other or swayed to the music. Spock decided that if he was to remain in such an unpleasant location, he would require more k’vass to dull his senses. The slight inebriation he’d felt earlier as a result of the two glasses he had partaken of upstairs had already for the most part faded. Most forms of intoxication lasted only very briefly in Vulcans due to their highly efficient metabolisms. For the first time, Spock regretted this fact. He carefully made his way towards the crowded bar, doing his best to avoid the people stumbling around him.

The bartender who served him was an Andorian female of the third caste. It was difficult to be sure. Andorians had up to four genders depending upon the method of categorisation utilised and Spock was no expert in such things. Unlike the human upstairs, she served him without comment or even a cursory glance at his eyebrows.

He could not keep Nyota in sight. The crowd of dancers heaved in time with the music and it was difficult to maintain visual contact. Fortunately there were no other Orions dancing and Nyota’s room-mate proved a useful focal point. The music continued in a long, seemingly unending drone. One ‘song’ wouldn’t end, it would just slowly merge into the next. Despite this, there was little continuity as far as Spock could tell. The music was a mix of many types popular within Federation space. A human composition in standard or French would segue into a Kolari dance or Andorian Aria. The only constant was the deafening beat of the bass frequencies. It was … _interesting_ … Spock supposed, but remarkably unpleasant.

He consumed three tall glasses of k’vass before he found it even remotely tolerable. He was watching Nyota and her human companion, a blonde cadet he did not recognise from any class he taught, dancing in a manner that was fairly inoffensive to a terran composition with entirely unintelligible lyrics, when someone tapped him deliberately upon the shoulder.

Many people had bumped into or knocked against him but this was clearly an intentional gesture. Accordingly Spock turned to regard the person in question. A humanoid female was staring up at him with a smile on her face. ‘Hi!’ she yelled. The vocalisation was lost in the wash of noise surrounding him, but Spock could tell what she had said from the movement of her mouth.

‘Hello.’ he returned, not bothering to raise his voice, trusting she would be able to read his own lips. She placed a hand upon his arm and leant towards him, apparently in an effort to speak into his ear. He restrained the urge to shrug off her touch. Even through his thick jacket the sensation was discomforting.

‘Do you wanna buy me a drink?’ she asked before settling back upon her feet to regard him expectantly.

The source of her interest now apparent to him, Spock gave her a scathing look and dislodged her hand with a sharp jerk of his arm. ‘No.’ he replied shortly and turned from her to face the dancefloor once more, dismissing her from his thoughts.

He could not see Nyota. Her Orion friend was dancing in a highly suggestive manner with a tall young human, and her blonde companion was standing at the bar waiting to be served. He stood up taller to improve his vantage point and scanned the crowd for her. Perhaps she had visited the restroom. Although on previous occasions over the course of the evening, the cadets had all done so together. Her felt that un-nerving _panic_ once more.

A flash of green caught his eye. Her dress. There. She was dancing. The panic faded only to be replaced with an unpleasant surge of something violent and illogical. She was dancing with another male. A young human had his hands wrapped around his mate’s hips, was pressed against her, moving against her body in time with the too-loud music.

And she was _letting_ him.

Spock was half way through the crowd, striding towards her before he could even begin to try and control his emotions. If the Deltan waiter touching her hand weeks ago had tested his control, what he was currently observing obliterated it. The bodies around him pressed and moved, shifted like one heaving organism. Spock weaved between them, working his way through the crowd. The saline, alien smell of sweat hung heavily in the air.

Nyota turned, her hips swaying, arms held aloft. Her eyes flicked over him and then she froze, her eyes locked with his. He could not hear her, but her painted lips formed his name. Her partner turned to regard him curiously. Spock glared at him, snarled, but the noise was lost in the din. The human raised an eyebrow and looked at Nyota in confusion. She pushed at him, stepped around the confused man and then she was in front of him, so close their bodies almost touched. Spock could not seem to breathe correctly. He felt a several directly conflicting urges at once. He was angry at her, irritated at the terrible music and the stink of the crowd and yet still somehow aroused. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze. He wanted to kiss her as he had earlier, shove his tongue down her throat and make her moan. He wanted to bury his teeth in her soft brown skin until she bled and screamed, until she remembered that she was _his._  It was only the fact that they were not alone that stilled him. He shot another glare over her shoulder at the man she had been dancing with and then directed his displeasure at her.

She stared at him in shock and then a wide smile blossomed on her face. It simultaneously pleased him and infuriated him further. He clenched his jaw. She should not be _smiling_ , she should be begging his forgiveness for letting another touch her. _Again._ She shifted on her feet as if she might embrace him, but then halted the movement and instead held a hand up between them.

Spock glanced down at her fingers.

A Vulcan greeting. The appropriate response to his presence considering their public location.

It should have pleased him. It did not.

He ignored her outstretched fingers and wrapped a hand around her jaw. Resisted the urge let his fingers dig into her painfully. Tugged her closer. Pressed his brow to hers. Such a display of physical affection – standing so close and touching her in such a manner - was grossly inappropriate in such a public setting. He found he did not care. She swayed unsteadily. Excitement, happiness, blurry intoxication and desire throbbed through her skin where he touched her. She was ecstatic at his presence - he felt no guilt or hint of betrayal in her. The rage at her behaviour drained away into nothingness with startling speed.

Slender fingers were twisted in his jacket. He pulled her closer, moulding her body tightly against his. Around them, unheeded, the dancers heaved and shifted. The human that had touched her had vanished into the crowd. Spock did not give him further thought.

The pulsing beat of the music thrummed through her body and into his. It resonated in the hollow of her chest, a compelling counter point to her heartbeat, filling her with a restless energy. Her hips were swaying slightly, temptingly, brushing against him in time to the beat. Perhaps the music was not as intolerable as he had initially thought. She found his left hand with her right and twisted her fingers with his. Suddenly he could feel her thoughts, clear and bright against his own. She was slightly aroused and restraining a powerful, drunken, desire to kiss him.

Several things occurred to him simultaneously. She was human not Vulcan and kissing her would be perfectly acceptable by human standards of decency, they were on Earth, not Vulcan, there was no one watching who would know him as her superior officer and in the dark club, dressed in his Terran clothing, he looked more human than Vulcan. In fact - he _was_ half human. These thoughts flickered through his consciousness in an instant and combined with how much he wanted her and the fuzzy buzz of the k’vass his behaviour suddenly seemed perfectly acceptable.

Why should he not live by the customs of his mother’s people when amidst them?

He pressed his lips against hers.

In a matter of seconds she had her arms wrapped tightly around him and was standing on her toes, her body shoved against his in long soft curves. Delight, shock and lust washed over him where they touched. Her teeth caught at his lower lip and then her tongue was in his mouth and her kiss was warm and wet and tasted of peaches and sugar and Cardassian whiskey. She moaned into his mouth - he didn’t hear the noise but he felt the vibration. He slid a hand down her back to curve around her backside, kneading the soft flesh and pulling her even closer to him.

He was kissing, _fondling_ a human girl in the middle of a debauched terran nightclub. His father would be mortified. His grandmother would disown him. Instead of shame or embarrassment however, he found the situation oddly exciting. A thrill of rebellion at his own depraved, _illogical,_ behaviour shot through him.

Nyota pulled her lips from his to press kisses to his jaw. He heard her voice, low and amused, right near his left ear. ‘Yes Spock, you are a _bad_ Vulcan.’

Teasing. Terran humour. She had felt an echo of his thoughts.

Her tongue darted out and licked the skin beneath his earlobe before her teeth gently nibbled at it. Spock’s breath caught. ‘Letting a drunk human girl touch you, kiss you, in front of all these people…’ she continued.

The music changed and an excited woman bumped roughly into them as she and her partner jumped up and down. Nyota pulled back from him and taking his hand tugged him through the crowd. Around them the dancers were moving much more violently and energetically, but with no particular regard for aesthetic. They appeared to be simply jumping up and down and waving their arms in the air. Through their joined fingers Spock could feel how the rhythm of the terran music appealed to Nyota on some instinctual level, her vague desire to join the dancers in the wild movement. He almost found himself tempted to join her. Clearly he was mentally unhinged.

Nyota led him with practised ease through the crush of bodies and Spock soon found himself in the bar area once more. It was even more crowded than earlier. She smiled at him over her shoulder as she pulled him across the room, around the tall tables and low couches. Considering her level of inebriation her movements were quite sure and steady.

They exited the main room into a side corridor. It was much quieter, but still very loud. There were two public comm terminals, a credit point and a short line of people standing near a door leading to what appeared to be a transporter pad. Further along the hallway Spock could see signage for restroom facilities and an emergency exit. Before he could give further thought to their location Nyota had turned and shoved him against the wall. Only his surprise and mild intoxication enabled her to unbalance him.

He did not have long to question her motives. Before he could straighten himself her arms were around him and her lips were on his again, the weight of her causing him to stumble and fall inelegantly into the wall once more. He attempted to care, to take offence at the impropriety of such behaviour, but he’d already behaved in such a reprehensible manner where she was concerned - shoved his fingers inside her in the middle of a classroom, had her in his office with her dress pushed up over her hips, dragged her into a simulator and –

She moaned against his lips and he dimly realised that he wasn’t shielding his thoughts at all, that she was aware of the direction they had taken. _‘Want you so bad.’_ she muttered into his mouth in slurred French. They had not conversed in the language before. He was pleased by her choice. The sentiment of her words, her emotional desire of him, could not have been expressed accurately in Vulcan and although he found himself uncaring of the witnesses to her kisses, her words seemed much more personal, things he did not wish overheard.

She stepped in between his boots so their legs were entangled. Spock could feel the soft heat of her against his thigh as she twisted her hips against him shamelessly. Her breath was warm against his neck. _‘Wet. I’m so wet for you Spock.’_ she moaned. Her words were almost a cruelty. There was little he could offer by way of response given their current location. She hesitated and rubbed her face against his before continuing, her unsteady voice so soft that even with his Vulcan hearing he could barely make out her words in the noise of the club. _‘Take me home and fuck me.’_

It was one of her more reasonable suggestions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and post the next chapter tomorrow since this is a terrible tease of a cliff-hanger.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Spock would make a very slutty human.  
> Thanks to anaellefire from ff.net for the french.

**Nyota**

The line for the hovertaxi rank was too long. It took aggeess, well, at least ten minutes before she and Spock made it to the front of the queue. She entertained herself in the meantime whispering the filthiest things she could think of into his ear, in French so they weren’t overheard, and kissing and touching whatever bit of him she could reach.

She knew she’d be horrified at some of the things she was saying once she sobered up, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She would _never_ have said the things she was saying in standard. Speaking a foreign language always made her feel oddly liberated though, like she was playing a part... and Spock looked so unexpectedly _sexy_ dressed like a human.

She’d never seen him dressed in anything save a uniform, and even in her most unlikely fantasies she’d only ever imagined him in Vulcan robes. Or naked. Mostly naked. Turned out he looked just as amazing in jeans as he did in everything else. She shoved a hand into one of his back pockets and grabbed his arse. He looked mildly scandalised, adorably so, so she did it again and commented crudely upon her fondness for that part of his anatomy. He tugged at her arm, removing her hand from both his pocket and his person and laced his fingers through her own.

Un-deterred, Nyota lifted his hand and began a detailed exploration of it. With her mouth. The mix of intense arousal and guilty shame she felt from him was mmm… very satisfactory. She closed her eyes and leant against him, pressing kisses and licks and bites to his fingers, enjoying the sparks of sensation she was invoking in him. Judging from the strength of his reaction, what she was doing was most definitely a taboo by Vulcan social norms. Brazenly she sucked his middle and index finger into her mouth and gave him the most sultry look she could manage as she more or less fellated his fingers.

He was looking at her like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kill her or fuck her. She let her teeth scrape over his skin. His lips pursed and she thought perhaps he’d just bitten the inside of his mouth to stop from making some sort of noise. Probably one of those sexy Vulcan rumbles of his. God she loved those bizarre noises he made…

She was pulled from her reverie by Spock retrieving his fingers and tugging her forward. She glanced around and realised they were at the front of the queue. Spock steered her into the waiting hovertaxi. Her shoes weren’t behaving and she more or less fell into the open door. Spock gave her a look that she thought was part exasperation, part amusement… maybe, and followed her far more gracefully. Nyota slid across the seat towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Spock ignored her and gave the pilot the address for his building. Nyota stared bleary-eyed at him and watched his mouth open and close as he spoke. She pressed her fingers to his chin then slid them up across the slight rasp of his stubble to trace the line of his bottom lip.

 _‘You are so very handsome.’_ she informed him gravely.

He turned to regard her with that dark look he’d been wearing all night. His pupils were dilated. She pressed her palm to the side of his face, her eyes flicking over those ‘very handsome’ features greedily. Shifting closer, so she was more or less sideways on the seat, she pressed her face against his chest and inhaled the warm delicious smell of him. Her body throbbed hotly. He’d done that thing he did, reduced her to a hormonal mess with his mere presence. The half a dozen plus cocktails probably hadn't helped matters much. She wanted to clamber onto his lap and grind herself against him right there and then.

 It seemed like a good idea.

In fact… she couldn’t think of any reason _not_ to. The taxi pilot had probably seen a lot worse…

Drunken internal debate concluded, Nyota climbed onto Spock’s lap. He gave her a disapproving look and muttered ‘ _Nyota.’_ at her in a tone you might use with a misbehaving pet, but he didn’t make any move to dislodge her.

Smirking Nyota shifted as close to him as possible. He was rock-hard, straining against his jeans. _Good._ He should be _just_ as uncomfortable as she was. She couldn’t quite get her pelvis flush with his, but she managed to get herself close enough to torture them both quite effectively. He stroked down her back, his hand hot against her skin and groped her ass, sliding forward on the seat so he could pull her closer. Her dress slid high up her thighs. Impulsively she took his hand in hers and slid it up under the hem and between her thighs, pressing his fingers against the soaked crotch of her stockings. The hand on her ass tightened and he made a very soft groaning noise. _‘Pouvez-vous senti? (Can you feel that?)’_ she asked brazenly. _‘Can you feel how much I want you?’_

She punctuated her drunken, whorish statement by biting him just below his jaw. His chest rumbled quietly underneath her and then there was a soft ripping noise. She froze, her heart hammering madly. Oh god her stockings. He’d torn a hole in her stockings. His eyes bored into her, daring her to tell him to stop as he pushed her panties aside. She bit her lip and then warm fingers brushed against her wet folds. A loud shuddering gasp exploded out of her and her entire body flinched at the sensation. She was fairly certain she’d never felt anything as _shocking,_ as utterly depraved as Spock’s fingers on her soaking pussy in the back of a hovertaxi.

Dark mad eyes almost glared at her, his lips parted in an expression that on a human would have been something like a sneer. She dug her fingers in to the skin at the back of his neck and ground herself against him. Unable to help herself, unable to care. He was touching her and she wanted him and he made her mad. He leant forward and shoved his face against her neck, his breath hot and uneven on her skin, his stubble rasping and prickling. His fingers drew a slow line up and down, his fingers skimming along her and making her body thrum with giddy want, but barely touching her. She turned towards him and panted softly into his ear. _‘Oui. S'il te plaît! Touche-moi! (Yes. Please! Touch me!)’_

His breath was a hot blast against her neck and then his tongue dragged wetly up towards her ear and his fingers twisted and nudged her. His thumb knuckled against her clit as he sunk two long fingers deep inside her and she felt like she might die.To stop herself from moaning she pulled at his face so she could kiss him. His shoved his tongue into her mouth and swallowed her cries as he slowly fucked her with his hand. Soft wet noises rose from between her legs and she was sure the pilot must hear, must know exactly what Spock was doing, but she didn’t care. Spock knew just how to touch her and the combination of his touch with the degenerate, shameless way they were behaving had her shuddering and gasping into his mouth, getting closer and closer to orgasm.

The pilot coughed pointedly. Jarred, Nyota pulled her mouth from Spock’s and glanced out the window. They were in front of his building. Spock reached around her and casually swiped his credit chip. As if his other hand wasn’t between her thighs, his fingers sunk deep inside her. She couldn't breathe properly, the entire situation was so far beyond... anything. His hand shifted with his movements and she bit the inside of her mouth.

 _‘Bonne soirée, monsieur et madame.’_ the pilot offered in a strained voice. Nyota’s eyes widened and a chill shot through her at the realisation that everything she’d said had been overheard, but Spock didn’t react at all, just politely returned the sentiment then pulled her from the taxi. Nyota tugged at her dress and she unsteadily got to her feet, glancing around for witnesses to her appearance. The street was mercifully deserted.

Spock dragged her into the building. His fingers were wet with her arousal where they gripped hers. She felt so hot and messy between her thighs she half expected to start dripping on the polished marble of the gleaming foyer. In the turbolift Spock lifted their joined hands to his mouth and licked at their wet fingers.

Her pussy clenched in jealousy and she swayed unsteadily on her stupidly high heels. Spock wrapped an arm around her to steady her. She moaned pathetically and slumped in his arms, the hard ridge of him pressing into her hip. When the lift opened with a chime on his floor he tightened his grip and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him and pressed kisses to his face as he carried her to his apartment.

She was half expecting him to just shove her against the nearest wall or flat surface - perhaps even the floor- the moment the door slid shut behind them, but in a display of control quite out of character with the rest of their interactions of the evening, he strode straight through to his bedroom and Nyota found herself pined to the mattress beneath him.

She tore off the hat he’d been wearing and pulled roughly at his jacket and the scarf he wore with one hand whilst the other twisted through his hair and pulled at his ears as she she’d been longing to all night. Spock’s hands were up her dress, tugging at her stockings. They ended up in several pieces but Nyota didn’t care in the slightest. He was slightly more gentle with her dress, yanking the stretchy material down over her breasts, then shoving it past her hips. Her underwear quickly followed and then he had his fingers inside her again and his mouth was sucking and biting at her breasts.

It took some minutes before she could get him to leave her alone long enough to get rid of his own clothing and then he was on top of her again, his body warm and hard and demanding.

The ceiling above her spun slightly and Spock’s mouth was hot and wet against her shoulder as he insinuated himself between her legs. The feel of him pressed skin to skin along the length of her, insistent and panting in his need for her made her body throb anew. She loved how much he wanted her, the intensity of it. She dug nails into his neck and ass as he roughly sunk his cock into her and then screamed when he bit her.

* * *

 

Her mouth was very dry.

Her eyelids were glued shut.

There was a stinging throb along her right shoulder and a softer, dull, ache between her thighs.

She moaned softly. Buried her face in the sheets.

A warm hand slid down her side and she felt the tingling buzz of Spock’s telepathy. She shifted backwards and encountered his very warm, very nude body lying behind her. The events of the previous evening played back in her mind in a mortifying slide show.

_Oh god the taxi._

Behind her Spock was nuzzling against her neck, his hand on her becoming more purposeful in its exploration of her body. She was sore and uncomfortable, but, as always, she couldn’t bring herself to deny him. When his hand gently cupped her breast she sighed softly in encouragement. He was pressing soft kisses against her neck and shoulders and it felt very… nice.

She was a sticky mess down there, and when his fingers dipped between her thighs the smell of their sex wafted up towards her. He groaned, his cock twitching against her ass, and pressed his face against her, pulling her tightly against him.

She could feel how much he wanted her, not just from his behaviour but through his skin where it touched her. She lifted her leg to make room for him and he rubbed himself against her before slowly sinking into her. Nyota sighed at the pleasant stretch and heat of him. He rocked against her in slow strokes for a long time. When he came he was pressed deep inside her and Nyota felt the warm echo of his climax through his fingers. He made no effort to move. Nyota didn’t mind. It was the middle of winter and his body heat was quite welcome. And though she didn’t want to admit it, the feel of him entwined with her so intimately, so _tenderly_ was much better than the very satisfying, very energetic sex they had the night before.

Overcome with a wave of affection, Nyota lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingers. He made a sleepy ‘Hmm’ noise near her ear and pulled her a little closer. ‘My Nyota.’ he mumbled.

Her heart soared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOCK YOUR LUURRVEE IS SHOWING!
> 
> ps. So much OOC in the last two chapters, but I regret nothing!  
> I will take one for the fandom. Spock finger banging Nyota in a taxi had to be written.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am of the opinion that Adam and Eve Expelled from Paradise by Marc Chagall is not what I would hang in my spaceship quarters if I was a alien hybrid in the future /looks at Spock Prime. (Star Trek VI)  
> Warnings: copious FLUFF in this chapter.

**Spock**

He saw no particular purpose in their visit, but it pleased Nyota, and increasingly Spock found himself wishing that she be… pleased. Her smiles and laughter were… gratifying. So… it was not…  _illogical_  that he do such things if she enjoyed them. If they made her… happy.

She was staring intently ahead, her attention quite focused. Spock glanced down at the slender brown hand that was wrapped around his arm just below his elbow. He did not find the contact unpleasant, and that in itself was mildly disturbing. She shifted on her feet and turned towards him, her lips slightly tilted and her eyes wide in the hint of a smile. Happiness. She was happy. He felt a wave of satisfaction at the fact.

'So what do you think?' she inquired very vaguely.

He raised an eyebrow. 'What do I think of what Nyota?'

'The painting Spock. What do you think of the painting?' She looked as though she might laugh.

He supposed the subject of her inquiry should have been quite obvious given the circumstances. They were after all, in an art gallery. He glanced at the image hung behind a protective forcefield on the wall in front of them. The colours were a mix of blues and greens, a combination many humanoid races considered 'soothing', but which to a Vulcan accustomed to the muted red tones of T'Khasi, were quite garish. The image itself was no more endearing. It made him feel slightly uneasy.

'I find it somewhat unsettling.' he admitted. 'I am aware it is regarded as a quite seminal work from this period of Earth history however.'

Nyota nodded in apparent agreement. 'Unsettling is right. I wouldn't want it hanging in my room.'

'I imagine the artist did not intend it as a mere decorative piece.' Spock hazarded, looking at the screen displaying the painting's information. It was an illustration based upon Christian mythology. The expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise.

Nyota sighed. 'You're right of course.' Spock noted she was no longer smiling, but frowning slightly. She looked  _sad._  This did not please him. 'I suppose life on Earth in the mid-20th century must have seemed pretty depressing. So much war and violence. Maybe it did feel like god had sent us here to suffer.'

'Such sentiments would explain the painter's choice of subject matter.' Spock agreed uneasily, trying to think of some way to return her to her former mood.

She sighed slightly and tugged his arm, leading him towards the next painting in the exhibit. It was a Tanugan image. Spock was gratified when it did not appear to cause her emotional distress as the previous painting had.

Nyota had been leading them rather aimlessly around the gallery, travelling from one exhibition to another with no discernible pattern, for 1.2 hours when she informed him of her displeasure with their current activity.

'You know what?' she proclaimed with more than human rhetorical vagueness than was her norm, 'This isn't working.'

Rather than question the illogical statement Spock merely raised an eyebrow and waited for her to elaborate.

'I have a better idea for what we should do today.' she continued.

'Attending this gallery was your suggestion.' Spock reminded her.

'Yes and it's  _boring._  I've already been here half a dozen times since I came to the Academy and something tells me you find the whole idea of walking around a building looking at pretty pictures to be 'highly illogical'.'

Spock tilted his head. 'I must admit I fail to see the point in observing the works in this setting as opposed to via holographic representation.' he said. 'Holographs can be manipulated to enable superior modes of inspection in a manner the real art work cannot be.'

She smiled and shook her head. A most contrary gesture. 'Well, I have a much better idea. Let's go.'

She squeezed his arm and turned towards the exit. Spock again considered the fact that he should not permit her to touch him in such an overly familiar manner, they were in public after all, but given his behaviour of late, he felt it would be hypocritical to make such a request. Besides which, he was again dressed in Terran clothing and there were neither any members of Starfleet or Vulcans in the vicinity. No casual onlooker would observe impropriety in her behaviour.

As they made their way down the wide steps of the main Gallery exit and onto the street Nyota slid her hand down his sleeve to wrap her fingers around his so that she was holding his hand in the human gesture of companionship. Save trips to Earth with his mother as a small child, Spock had never held anyone's hand. It was… not unpleasant. Nyota's hand was warm and her happiness and excitement seeped through his fingers. He allowed himself the small indulgence of squeezing her hand in his grip slightly. She glanced up at him and smiled very widely as she squeezed his hand back in turn.

Near giddy happiness tingled up his fingertips. Spock felt slightly awed being the sole focus of her joyful attention. No one had ever smiled at him in the manner Nyota Uhura did with ever-increasing frequency. He did not feel entirely worthy of her regard, but that did not stop him basking in it.

She led him a short distance across the centre of the city and into the confines of Golden Gate Park. Spock was aware of the park and its facilities, but had never made personal inspection of them. He recalled the presence of several disparate gardens and lakes, sporting fields and facilities, an art gallery, a museum and other recreational venues. He was uncertain where Nyota wished to take him.

They entered via one of the main entrances, passing an ancient terran wind-powered turbine as they did. Nyota seemed to know precisely where she was going. She did not refer to the map located near the entrance, instead she pulled Spock off the main path and into a large rose garden. Few specimens were flowering, it being winter, but Spock noted the size and scale of the gardens.

'My mother would appreciate this garden.' he remarked. Nyota looked up at him in interest. 'She has a great fondness for Terran roses.' he clarified.

She smiled and he could tell that his volunteering such a personal detail, insignificant though it was, pleased her. 'If she ever visits you in Spring you should take her here.' she enthused. 'It's lovely when they are in bloom. It smells  _amazing._ '

The likelihood of his mother visiting San Francisco in the spring whilst he was on planet was quite high. His father's time on Earth was usually split between the Vulcan Consulates in Paris and San Francisco, and his mother often accompanied him.

'Should the opportunity arise I shall surely consider it.' he replied.

Passing through the pruned specimens they returned to a pathway once more. There was sporadic foot traffic in both directions and individuals riding bicycles and other modes of transport deemed recreational on Earth. They passed a small museum and the entrance to the San Francisco Botanical Gardens before rounding a corner to a paved plaza with a stone half dome stage at one end. There were tables and chairs dotting the space and a variety of people partaking of food and beverages from several cafes.

Spock felt Nyota's excitement rise again as they crossed the space and approached a large building. Spock regarded the signage in interest. The California Academy of Sciences. From what he recalled it was a natural history museum of some sort. In his experience Terran museums were quite infantile, aimed more at educating human children than entertaining adults, but he admitted he would probably find more things of interest within than he had at the art gallery.

Nyota seemed to have a specific destination in mind. They passed through the main foyer and downstairs. Spock's interest was piqued slightly when they passed under a large sign informing them that they were entering The Steinhart Aquarium. Aquariums were something of a novelty to a child of Vulcan.

Regardless of the warning, he was quite unprepared for the sight that greeted them inside. The light was muted with greens and blues, filtered through an enormous transparent aluminium tank that was suspended above and around them, forming both the roof and walls of the 'room'. Pathways spread out like spokes of a wheel from the large central observation gallery, each enclosed in a transparent tunnel. Above them Spock could see walkways enabling visitors visitors upstairs to observe the aquatic habitats below them.

Spock was jarred from his inspection of their intriguing surroundings by Nyota's voice.

'Well?' she asked excitedly. 'Is this more interesting then looking at old paintings?'

Spock could tell she was hoping, rather childishly, for some sort of praise for her choice of activity. 'It appears to be quite fascinating.' he reassured her. 'I have not seen an aquarium on this scale before.'

'This is the Coral Reef Gallery.' she explained excitedly. 'There are several others. A fresh water habitat with alligators and snapping turtles, an arctic zone with penguins and seals and a hall with smaller displays of non-terran specimens.'

'Most intriguing.' he replied. A shadow caught his attention and he glanced upwards to track the movement. 'A stingray?'

Nyota followed the direction of his gaze. 'I think that's Bob.' she remarked cryptically.

Spock blinked and looked at her sceptically. 'Bob?' he inquired.

She smiled. 'The giant stingray is called 'Bob'. He has a wife called Betty.'

'The stingray is married?' he asked nonplussed.

'Yes. To Betty the Stingray.' she replied airily. 'You can read all about them at the information point.'

Something else moved in the corner of his eye. Spock turned to observe a large octopus that had come to attach itself the glass nearby. He looked down at Nyota and gave her pointed look. 'And who is this? A friend of 'Bob the Giant Stingray'?'

She swung their joined hands back and forth between them. 'I'm not sure. I wasn't introduced to the octopus.' Wrapping both her hands around his she pulled him over towards where the large creature was furling and unfurling its tentacles. 'Hello there Mr Octopus.' she crooned playfully. 'I'm Nyota and this is Spock.'

Spock shot her a look of disbelief. 'Whilst your grasp of language is indisputably very skilful Nyota, I do not think even you are capable of verbal communication with an invertebrate.'

She gasped in mock outrage. 'Ignore the grumpy Vulcan Mr Octopus.' she said. 'They don't have octopuses on his planet.' Giving Spock a look he identified as teasing she continued. 'He doesn't know that octopuses are arguably the cleverest invertebrates on Earth.'

'Be that as it may, I still find myself doubtful of your ability to converse with one in standard.' Spock replied dryly.

Before she could reply the large creature removed itself from the glass and shot away across the tank with startling alacrity for such a large creature.

Nyota pouted. 'You upset the octopus Spock.' she remarked in what was clearly jest.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

They spent a further 2.3 hours in the aquarium. Nyota succumbed to several more bouts of illogical terran humour, and Spock feigned ignorance to provide her further amusement, but for the most part she seemed to find the displays as interesting as he. Kenya was almost verdant in comparison to Na'nam on Vulcan, but still a far cry from the exotic Terran habitats on display in the aquarium. Her reaction to the penguins defied all logic however. She giggled uncontrollably and Spock was forced to pull his hand from hers for fear her mirth would affect his control. She would have quite happily remained for the entire afternoon simply observing the strange birds. Spock did not understand their appeal. Her explanations about how 'fat' and 'cute' they were did little to clarify his confusion.

Shortly after touring the penguin enclosure she remarked upon a desire for sustenance. Spock was amenable. They made their way back outside to the gardens. It was unseasonably warm, according to her at least - Spock still found it quite uncomfortable - and she decided that they should eat outside.

Since their entire expedition had been her idea, Spock went along with the suggestion despite his preference for a warmer and more logical place to dine - namely a table in one of the restaurants or cafes. He restrained himself from making comment however. They purchased elaborate sandwiches from a café and Spock followed Nyota as she decided on where they would sit. Apparently there was 'too much sun' on the benches they passed and it was 'too noisy' near the large decorative fountain in the middle of the courtyard. She paused near a small lake and seemed to consider perching upon several large decorative boulders before changing her mind again.

They had been walking for almost ten minutes encumbered with their lunch when she suddenly gasped. 'Oh I know!' in excitement.

Her pace increased and Spock followed her bemusedly, wondering what strange thing had excited her so much. Perhaps there was some variety of tree which held similar mystifying appeal to human females as the penguins had. Could a tree be 'cute' and 'fat' he wondered? She led him back past the rose garden and then through a wooden Shinto gate set amidst thick stands of bamboo and much weathered with age.

The garden they entered was in the formal Japanese style, though Spock noted that several of the botanical specimens nearby were in fact Chinese rather than Japanese. There were streams and ponds and strange bridges to cross them. Statues dotted the winding paths and on a hill above it, the roof of a five-tiered pagoda peeked out from the tree tops. They wandered further into the gardens, climbing over the odd little bridges and crossing artfully arranged placements of stones and coloured gravel. There were two young children feeding large koi fish in one of the larger ponds, a woman who was most likely their mother supervising from nearby, but otherwise the gardens were quite empty.

Finally, 16.3 minutes after they had purchased their sandwiches, Nyota found a place she deemed acceptable for them to sit and eat. Spock sat down beside her on the short grass and attempted to identify what made this particular spot so remarkable. There was a pleasant view afforded of a nearby waterfall and a red bridge, with the pagoda visible above and to the left past several bare-limbed trees, but he failed to note any particular superiority.

Nyota unwrapped her sandwich and used the bag and wrapper as a makeshift dinning surface. Spock hesitantly followed suit. Although whilst serving on active duty he had on many occasions been forced by circumstance to eat food in less than sanitary conditions – sitting in the dirt eating protein nibs was hardly uncommon for an enlisted member of Starfleet, he would much preferred a table. And utensils. As a Vulcan it was ingrained in him not to touch his food unless absolutely necessary. He was perfectly aware that sandwiches were traditionally eaten by hand however. The one in front of him was much larger and more cumbersome to those he had encountered previously however. He was uncertain  _how_ he was expected to consume it precisely.

Nyota suffered from no such hesitation. She took a bite of her sandwich and gave a moan of enthusiasm. Spock glanced over at her. Evidently her meal was highly satisfactory. At his look she blushed and held a hand up to her mouth, smiling and trying to swallow at the same time and as a result nearly choking. Spock pretended he did not find the sight mildly amusing. There was flour on her fingers from the thick bread of her sandwich. When she lowered her hand there was a white smudge on her chin. Spock indicated as much to her and she wiped her face with a napkin, blushing further.

'I probably should have picked something more genteel for a picnic with a Vulcan.' she remarked.

Picnic. He had not given it thought but what they were currently doing did indeed constitute a terran picnic. Slightly gingerly he picked up half of his sandwich. He could feel the dry powdery flour coating his fingers already. Perhaps he could use a napkin to hold the sandwich? Brushing off his fingers he folded one of the tissues and made an attempt. It was a slight improvement.

'I am only half Vulcan. My mother would be as amused as my father scandalised.' he reassured her as he lifted his sandwich to inspect it again.

'It's pesto-tofu with spinach and tomato.' Nyota informed him. 'He said it was vegan so it should be okay for you.' She took a small bite of her own. 'Mine's pretty good.'

It did smell quite appetising. He was familiar with pesto from pasta dishes, and had no issue with spinach, tomato or tofu. But it looked like it would fall apart if he attempted to bite into it and he was certain he would end up with flour and pesto all over his face if he was not careful.

As if she could sense his fears, Nyota spoke again. 'Are you intimidated by the big bad Panini Commander Spock?' she inquired in a soft, mocking tone of voice. 'Do you need me to cut it into little pieces for you?'

Spock looked up from his inspection to send her a glare. 'You have a sizable piece of what appears to be basil stuck on your top left lateral incisor.' he informed her smugly. Her hand shot up to her mouth once more. 'Furthermore I am not "intimidated" by my meal, I am merely attempting to ascertain the most logical method of consumption.' He paused. 'And since you do not have any sort of cutting implement upon your person, I assume your offer to dissect it was made in jest.'

She snorted in amusement and shook her head. When Spock had still not taken a bite 2.3 minutes later she spoke again. 'Do you want me to turn around so your honour isn't impinged by a human bearing witness to a Vulcan possibly getting pesto on his face?'

'I am beginning to suspect you chose these 'paninis' purely because you knew the mechanics of how to consume one would be slightly confounding to me.'

She smiled widely but shook her head. 'No Spock, your delicate table manners are just a happy circumstance.'

Spock sighed slightly and took a careful bite from the extreme corner of his sandwich. Nyota smirked at him but then quite tactfully looked in the opposite direction whilst he wiped a smudge of flour off his cheek. It took him far longer than she to consume his lunch and she bit her lips and smiled in a way he knew meant she found him amusing many times over the course of the meal. After he had consumed the panini, which whilst very messy was quite palatable, he carefully used a napkin to ensure there was no trace on his face.

Nyota, who was now lounging on her stomach in the grass with typical human disregard for appearance or dignity, propped her chin up on her hands and inquired bizarrely, 'Do I have anything in my teeth?' before grinning in a disturbing fashion at him evidently to display her teeth for his inspection.

'No you do not.' Spock replied shortly. He had never been asked to inspect someone's teeth before. He was uncertain how how he felt about that particular familiarity.

'Good!' she replied happily before rolling on to her back. There were several stalks of dead grass and a leaf stuck to her clothing. 'I'm kinda thirsty. Wanna go up to the teahouse and have some tea?' she inquired gesturing vaguely towards the pagoda.

Spock reached over and began removing the grass and other debris from her person. 'That would be acceptable.' he replied.

She hummed in apparent approval and took his hand in between her own much smaller ones before bringing it to her mouth to drop a kiss to the back of it. Spock recalled her making a similar gesture when they were in bed the previous morning. He had not been facing her on that occasion however. With his view now unimpeded he saw the look of happy contentment on her face. Warm human eyes caught his and her happiness buzzed along his fingertips. His heart did that unsettling thing it sometimes did in her presence, juddering deep in his chest, and he felt a strange burst of adrenaline as something like excitement or anxiety pulsed through him.

She released her gentle grip on his hand and her eyes closed. He was still holding a dead leaf in his hand. He flicked it aside and then curled his hand along the side of her face. She sighed and turned into his touch. That anxious feeling swelled. Spock tried to identify it. There was no cause for alarm. Nyota and he were quite safe and quite alone. She was not unhappy or otherwise emotionally distressed. And having spent the last 36.2 hours in her exclusive company he was not at the mercy of his accursed Vulcan instincts with regards to her. So he had no reason to be uneasy… And yet. What was this feeling?

Her eyes opened and she smiled up at him radiantly, then lifted a slender brown arm to trace fingers down over his cheek and across his jaw. Muted winter sunlight dappled her skin and hair with the shadows of the trees above. Not for the first time he was struck by the fact that Nyota Uhura was very beautiful.

' _Ashal-veh'_  she intoned quietly in her perfect Vulcan. His heart dropped again and the anxious feeling rose up inside him and then suddenly he knew it by name and was overcome. In a panic, he pulled her up into his arms and pressed his face to hers, unable to breathe, unable to talk, his mind full of her. Her arms wrapped around him, her body soft and welcoming. He pulled her closer, clumsily lifted her into his lap. He could feel the slow beat of her human heart and smell the scent of her skin. He tried to calm himself but found he could not. It was too much.

'Spock?' she queried him tremulously.

He swallowed around his dry throat, frowned and nearly choked upon the words, sick with what he felt, what he knew. ' _Nyota.'_  he said. ' _Ashayam.'_

He felt her soaring  _joy_  at his confession. It surged through her skin wherever it touched him, so vast and absolute it almost drowned the quiet horror threatening to consume him.

' _Ashayam.'_  she returned in an unsteady voice, her hands on his face and her breath soft on his lips. The nervous excitement threatened to shatter his control entirely. Made his body shake and tremble. It was both terrible and wonderful.  _'Mpenzi.'_  She continued before kissing him briefly, her eyes dark and shining. 'Beloved.'


	15. Chapter 15

**Nyota**

She was awoken by music. Beautiful music.

Nyota lay on her stomach listening for several long minutes. It was obviously a stringed instrument of some sort - one she could not immediately identify. There was a hint of the mournful tone of a violin, but something much lighter as well - like a harp or a hammered dulcimer. The notes fluttered as if plucked with a finger rather than drawn out with a bow. She didn't recognise the composition either.

She rolled over in Spock's bed and looked around. It was early evening, the sky not quite full dark yet outside his window. Soon she'd have to head back to the Academy and her dorm - and Gaila's  _endless_  questions, but for the moment she just lay back and listened sleepily. She'd claimed an old, soft t-shirt of Spock's to nap in and she was warm and comfortable cocooned in sheets that smelt faintly of him.

Nyota loved music. She loved to sing, loved to learn new instruments and she loved to sit in her dorm and listen to music over her ear phones late at night. Her appreciation was similar, connected, to her love of languages. Whenever she learnt a new dialect she always sought out examples of music, preferably with singing. She found it helped her understand the nuances of a language and of the species itself. You could learn a lot about a culture from its music.

Whatever Spock was listening to was new to her, but struck a chord deep inside her. It was like the time her mother took her to the see the Imperial Andorian Orchestra when she was 14 and she'd sat in her seat and nearly cried, or when she and Gaila had gone to see Daxaani the famous Betazoid empath-soprano in first year. A particularly mournful cascade of arpeggios in a minor key echoed from the living room and her heart skipped a little. It was a very sad piece, at least to her human ears. Not at all what she'd ever imagine a Vulcan listening too. Maybe Spock had inherited his mother's taste in music?

Curiosity got the better of her and she climbed out of Spock's bed and stood hesitantly for a moment. The grey starfleet shirt she wore hung down past her panties. She tugged at the hem and sucked at her teeth before deciding it was sufficient clothing. She padded barefoot out of his room and along the short hallway that led to the living room.

She paused in the doorway in surprise. It wasn't a recording. It was… Spock.

Nyota stood motionlessly, spell bound. Spock was sitting on the couch with his back to her, his dark head bent over some sort of instrument balanced on his knee. She couldn't believe it, the beautiful music was coming from  _him_. A man who'd had to give himself some sort of Vulcan panic attack before he'd been able to admit an emotional attachment to her. And even then he'd not said the words, just implied them via a term of endearment.

At length the composition ended and he fell silent. Nyota blinked. One of her legs had pins and needles. She'd been standing awkwardly in the doorway for several minutes. Spock was making some adjustment to the instrument he held. As she stepped forward into the room a lilting melody entirely at odds with the previous haunting piece he'd been playing sprang from the strings, filling the air around her.

Spock glanced over his shoulder at her as she approached. Abruptly the music stopped.

Nyota continued towards him. 'Please don't stop.' she implored him.

His head tilted to one side and he blinked once before his fingers began to move again. Nyota came to stand before him. He met her gaze, his hands moving over the strings of what she now recognised as a Vulcan harp or  _ka'athyra_. Nyota sunk to her knees on the carpet beside him and watched enraptured.

Spock played the song to its evident conclusion.

'I apologise if I disturbed you.' he remarked into after the last chord had faded into silence.

Nyota smiled and shook her head. 'You did not. I only wish I got woken up like that more often.' she reassured him. 'That was beautiful. I have never heard a ka'athyra played in person before… Would you play another song for me?'

'If you pleases you... Nyota.' he replied stiltedly.

She smiled. 'It does, _Spock._ '

He did not move for a moment, perhaps choosing something to play, and then he adjusted the tuning of the harp again and played.

It was even more lovely than the first piece she'd awoken too. Nyota shifted closer, watching his hands skim over the layered strings of the instrument in complicated chords and phrases. She forgot her nervousness, the childish anxiety Spock so often awoke in her, and wrapped a hand around his leg and rested her chin upon his knee. The material of his robe was cool and soft against her skin. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her.

When the song ended she didn't want to move so she didn't. Only when Spock brushed warm fingers against her cheek did she deign to open her eyes. He'd placed the ka'athyra on the table beside him and was looking down at her intently.

' _What is that piece called Spock?'_  she inquired in his native tongue.

He blinked slowly. ' _It is the third movement from the Saga of Valok. It concerns the protagonist's encounter with the sirshos'im.'_ he replied, his fingers moving to stroke over her very messy hair.

' _Sirshos'im?'_  Nyota inquired. She had not heard the term before.

' _Soul-eater. Mythical creatures said to lure lost travellers to their deaths in the desert.'_  Spock explained. At her expression he added _'It is a pre-awakening piece.'_  almost apologetically.

Nyota smiled up at him. 'Thank you for playing it for me, it was lovely.'

Spock slid his fingers over her cheek and pushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. His fingers lingered along the curve of it. He was looking down at her with a strange expression on his face, softer than usual. Again Nyota recalled his unexpected emotional display in the park that afternoon and her heart twisted in a way that was both painful and wonderful. She rose to her knees and pressed her hands to his face.

'Spock.' she intoned softly, trying to express half a dozen things with that one utterance.

He sighed and then pulled her up into his arms, pressing his face against hers. Nyota wrapped herself around him, pressing herself into the warm, reassuringly solid, shape of him. She gave a little huff of contentment and he tilted his face to press his lips to hers. He kissed her more gently than usual, more like a human, but the tingling sensation his fingertips created as they skimmed over her skin wasn't human at all. A big hand curled over her shoulder and slid down to press between her shoulder blades, warm through the thin cotton of her shirt. She shivered.

She wanted to feel his hands everywhere.

All over her body. Forever.

She moaned into his mouth and deepened their kiss, rising up on her knees to straddle him. The speed with which her desire for him overtook her was almost embarrassing. It was always like this with him. Kissing Spock was like jumping off a cliff. Instant free-fall. One minute she was giving him a chaste little peck because she adored him and the next she was half-naked in his lap kissing him like they'd been making out for hours instead of seconds. It wasn't normal, she was _sure_  it wasn't normal - to feel like this. To feel this much. Spock ran a hand up the curve of her back pushing her shirt up towards her shoulders and Nyota shuddered, her back arching unconsciously. She raised her arms and Spock fisted the cotton and dragged it over her head before tossing it aside. His eyes flicked down over her body and she felt her cheeks flush despite how many times he'd seen her. His hands were fever-warm when he cupped her flesh, teasing and massaging and making her shift uncomfortably.

She twisted a hand in his hair and kissed him again, biting his lower lip gently, wanting him to want her as much as she wanted him. Spock's kiss quickly lost all semblance of human gentleness, his tongue delving deeply into her mouth as his fingers moved to grip her jaw firmly. He pulled her closer until their bodies were crushed against each other. Nyota could feel the hard length of him between her legs and it sent a hot thrill through her. She twisted her hips, grinding herself against him and he surged beneath her, his hips rising off the couch. She pulled her mouth from his to take great, greedy gulps of air, her tangled hair hanging down around them in a dark curtain.

He looked up at her with parted lips and dark eyes for an endless moment before leaning forward and gathering her hair in a fist. He pulled her head to the side, making her scalp sting slightly, and mouthed his way down her neck, across her collarbone and then down her body. He paid careful attention to her breasts, but didn't seem content to stop his exploration there. He shifted her, tightened his grip on her, and then Nyota found herself lying back on the couch looking up at him. His eyes were narrowed, his cheeks flushed a light green, his hair messed up from her fingers and his breath was coming in soft uneven pants. As always, the sight of him so dishevelled and unhinged did strange things to Nyota. He roughly yanked at her panties and she lifted her hips so he could remove them.

He stared down at her naked body and the expression on his face both delighted and scared Nyota. Wantonly, she parted her legs slightly so her sex was exposed to him. A low sound of approval rumbled from him and delighted her and then he was between her thighs. He grabbed her arse and lifted her, pulling a leg over his shoulders. His breath blew over her flesh in a hot blast and his nose nudged at her making her flinch. When he lathed his tongue against her Nyota's entire body twisted in a long juddering shock, a high-pitched 'Mmm!' noise coming out her mouth without her permission. When he repeated the motion, swiping his tongue along her with strokes that hinted at more, she bit her lip to stifle herself. But when he spread her with his fingers and began tasting her in earnest, his mouth pressing firmly against her, his tongue spearing into her, the noise that erupted out of her seemed more appropriate to a mortal injury, a phaser blast or a bat'leth to the kidney, than the sharp shocking pleasure he wrested from her so easily.

She felt him moan against her,  _into_ her and then he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked with gentle but persistent pressure and she could feel the rasp of his stubble against her skin and his fingers digging into the meat of her thigh and  _oh god oh fuck._ Nyota found herself ripping at his hair and more or less attempting to fuck his face, her hips grinding against him, her thighs wrapped around his head, quite possibly smothering him. Humiliating pleading moans and whimpers tumbled out of her but she was too aroused to care.

He looked up at her, holding her gaze in his own, as he reached up and grabbed one of her hands and twisted his fingers against hers. His eyelids fluttered and she felt him groan against her burning flesh. She felt flickers of his thoughts, snippets in standard and Vulcan or maybe not any language at all. They echoed softly in her mind -  _hot-wet-so good-best-Mine -_ and found herself deliriously agreeing. Yes yes - he was best - he was the only and she was his.

She felt his deep gratification at her sentiments, heard him hum lowly, and then he slid two fingers into her aching centre, pushing them deeply inside her so they hit that place that made her shiver. She wasn't moaning anymore, it was more of a loud vulgar wail forced out of her throat as she thrashed underneath him, and he  _loved it._ She could feel exactly how much through his fingertips  _\- It made him ache to bury himself inside her. She was so beautiful so perfect and he needed to please her needed her to want him needed -_  She groaned. The combination of his mouth and hands on her body and his thoughts in her head culminated in a blinding release.

She came staring down at him, her body clamping fiercely around his fingers in wet heat, her thighs wrapped around him in a crushing grip. She'd barely come back down to Earth, limp and dazed, before he was on top of her, braced on a hand beside her head, panting and staring down at her savagely, his face wet with her. She felt him hard between her legs and spread her thighs for him. Instantly he was inside her, the sharp movement forcing a strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a huff out of her throat. He wrapped a hand around her hip and made another one of those deep Vulcan sounds of his as he buried himself as deeply as possible inside her.

The softness he'd demonstrated early was gone entirely. He stared down at her with a dark possessive look on his face, his features twisted from their usual placid stillness to something violent and alien that made her blood sing. Nyota crossed her legs behind him and arched her back in encouragement. He didn't need any. His body slammed against hers relentlessly. She had to reach back and brace an arm against the armrest of the sofa so she wasn't shoved up along the cushions.

He still had her hand in his, pressing his mind against her. The sensation made her groan in ecstasy. She didn't understand how his telepathy worked, but she craved it almost as much as his touch. His thoughts echoed in her mind.  _ni masupik ni lamekh ni wuhik ni rom.(so wet so warm so tight so good)_ The impassioned Vulcan he thought in completely at odds to the cool precise way he spoke it out loud. His lust-mad thoughts and his pleasure burnt through his fingers and seemed to work their way into her bloodstream, fanning her own desire to impossible heights.  _more_  she wanted more.

He groaned. He was taking her at a brutal pace, his hips snapping back and forth in a way that made breathing difficult. But she could feel him holding back, keeping some desperate desire under careful control. She wanted it. Needed it. 'Spock… please.' she begged him, not knowing or caring what she was asking for.

He dropped his head, burying his face against her shoulder and his fingers tightened on hers, his thoughts clearing, closer to her own. His movements slowed and he took her in deep long strokes, his body pressed firmly against her. She groaned in pleasure, twisting beneath him. She felt so close to him, almost as if they were going to blur into one creature. The heat of his body smothered her and his thoughts burnt her from the inside. She felt like she was being consumed, swallowed by him.

But still it wasn't enough.

There was something… she felt it reflected in his thoughts. She tugged at his hair until he raised his head so she could kiss him. He stilled and ground his hips against hers in slow torturous movements, his cock hard and hot inside her. She smoothed fingers across his furrowed brow and then down and around to splay against the bone of his eye socket. His breath caught and he pressed back against her touch, his skin fever-hot beneath her fingertips. Tempting, forbidden desire unfurled deep inside her. Him. Them. This -  _this_  was what she/he wanted. She shifted her fingers adjusting them minutely and Spock's eyes flickered closed and he made a low pleading noise. She'd heard only vague reference to it during her detailed study of Vulcan culture and language.

_It is not spoken of to outsiders._  Spock's thoughts had slowed, his words vague - almost like she'd hypnotised him.

' _Kash-nohv'_  she whispered.

Spock's eyes snapped open and he made a strangled noise. The pulse of intense heat and  _longing_  she felt from him made her gasp and her body clenched around him as it suffused her through his fingertips, through his very skin everywhere he touched her. All else was driven from her mind, all that remained was a terrifying need. She sobbed at the intensity of it, screwed her eyes shut and rocked her hips beneath him. She wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted  _all_  of him. Wanted everything. She loved him. 'Please!' she gasped.

Spock was panting, frozen above her, a pained expression on his face.  _'I must not.'_  he groaned desperately, almost as if he was trying to convince himself.

She felt how much his control was costing him.

' _Nash-veh t'du…'_  she told him, meaning it completely, in the most primitive of ways, in that moment.

He made a strange whining noise and gently ran the backs of his curled fingers across her cheek. She felt drugged, drunk, completely irrational. She was shivering. '… love you. Love you  _so much_.' she mumbled, unable to keep the words inside. He'd felt her thoughts, surely he already knew. What was the point in not saying it?

His fingers faltered, unfurling and stroking lines of fire across her brow. The promise of more made heat flush over her skin and her breath catch in her throat. She looked up, found him staring at her like he was in agony.

His eyes were mad and glittering, his body shaking slightly. ' _Nyota...'_ he gasped. The way he said her name made her heart feel like it was twisting around itself in her chest.  _'you... you would be mine?'_ he asked.

She couldn't breathe. 'yes… Spock… you. want you…' she mumbled, her tongue thick in her mouth.

He closed his eyes for a long moment and then his fingers pressed into her cheek, shaking slightly. She felt his intent as they pressed firmly against her and then she a strange pressure... his mind… then a wave of heat washed over her and she drew in a deep breath except she didn't.

Spock did.

Her eyes were wide and staring, her face slack in wonder and she had her fingers pressed to the cool skin of her beautiful face… No, her fingers were in Spock's hair, curled around his neck and he was so  _warm_  but not as warm as Nyota's body where it encased him in tight maddening heat and oh god if he didn't move soon she'd die and -

She groaned at the overwhelming sensations and saw herself tilt her head backwards, admired the long column of her own neck and -

_\- the scent of her was everywhere, intoxicating and the soft little noises she made were making his blood throb and he'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted her and they should not be doing this, it was improper but she made him weak and he could not control himself –_

_\- she didn't want him to control himself she wanted him to want her with the same madness she wanted him. She knew he didn't love her but if he needed her then at least she'd get to keep him for a little while longer. Oh god he was so beautiful and she loved him too much. She'd_ _never_ _want anyone else there was only him only Spock –_

_\- being one with her was right-good-as it should be because she was his, he knew it, his mate, his female, his Nyota and he wanted - needed to mark her so no other would try and steal her from him. She was so beautiful and he knew others coveted her, wanted to take what was his –_

_\- no no no only Spock no other ever! She was his to do as he pleased with, she would wear his mark wherever he wished it. She'd cut his name into her flesh if he wanted it, wear it like a brand so everyone -_

_\- tilted her head back and he tasted the soft skin of her shoulder, salty and cool against his tongue, but he must be careful. He was stronger than her, he hurt her, had hurt her, would hurt her, but his jaw throbbed with the need to clamp down hard and she was pressing him closer and she wanted him and he was not strong enough, could not resist. He needed her wanted her… she keened in his ear and the noise almost as sweet as the blood in his mouth –_

_\- his teeth his mouth his fingers his cock inside her burning so good so good more more more… touch him she needed to touch him! His hair was so soft and when she twisted it between her fingers he groaned and the sound of it made her –_

_\- tight around him, soft and warm and perfect and his. Slender brown hands scratching, pulling at him because she wanted him, wanted all of him - even like this when he was half-mad. Her breath catching, his name on her lips full of lust and desire and love. She loved him. Nyota loved –_

_\- hand gripping her hip, pining her down as he moved deep and hot inside her and that was all it took she felt the first flutterings of her orgasm begin deep inside her and then she came, seemingly with her entire body. Her every muscle tensed and froze and she called out to him in shock and pleasure and fear because it was too much she couldn't -_

White light engulfed her brain and fire engulfed her body. She could feel him inside her, in her body and in her mind, and he wasn't cold at all he was aflame.

* * *

The sensations of her body – the feel of Spock against her, the couch beneath her, the warm air of his apartment, she felt them as if she were far away from it, tethered to her body by only the thinnest cord. For some reason the feeling did not alarm her. Slowly however it faded and she was drawn back into that shell. Her body.

She blinked.

His fingers were gone from her face, his arms wrapped around her instead, but she could still feel a faint… something in the back of her mind. Like the press of his hand. A gentle… pressure. A reminder of his existance. She hovered in a pleasant haze, lulled by the warm press of his body against her. She shifted, nuzzled her face against his neck and huffed out a breath as she found a comfortable position.

Spock was stroking one warm hand down her side. Over her ribs and down to the flare of her hips and back again.

She felt… wonderful. Couldn't remember when she'd felt so good. She sighed in satisfaction and pressed a hand against his side so that she could feel the rapid stutter of his heart. She was drifting somewhere very near to sleep when he finally broke the silence between them in a quiet voice that hardly sounded like his own at all.

'I want… to keep you.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh dear, Spock's done a thing.   
> I should have called this fic _'Spock Is Bad At Explaining Things and At Having Feelings'._


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter here, but the finale will be posted straight away.

**Spock**

He should have been horrified, but instead Spock awoke feeling calm and entirely at peace with himself for the first time since several months.

It was dark, approximately 23:15 hours by his estimation. Nyota was sleeping beside him, a slender brown arm wrapped around his chest and her left leg thrown rather possessively over his right. Her proximity was not uncomfortable. Where her cool human skin was pressed against his he could feel the vague shape of her sleeping mind.

He had only had a few hours' sleep and was considering closing his eyes once more when he detected a chiming noise from the living room. He recognised the tone as Nyota's personal communicator. Gently he extracted himself from her embrace. She made a very human, very sleepy sounding whining noise as she rolled into the warmed space he had vacated and promptly commandeered his pillow.

Spock looked at her for a moment in slight amusement before padding barefoot into the living room and extracting Nyota's comm unit from the pocket of her discarded jacket. The little screen identified the caller as 'Gai Gai'.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion before deducing it most likely denoted a call from Nyota's room-mate Gaila. Since the Orion Cadet was aware of his association with Nyota and he did not wish to disturb her rest, he answered the call. Before he had opportunity to speak, a rushed stream of Orion Prime emanated from the device. Clearly his assumption as to 'Gai Gai's identity had been correct.

' _Ny! Thank god! Where are you? I've been trying to get a hold of you since curfew!'_

'Cadet. Nyota is currently resting.' Spock returned calmly in the same language.

' _Commander Spock?'_

'Affirmative.'

' _Um. Nyota is with you?'_

'Indeed.'

' _It's Sunday night sir. And after curfew. Cadets aren't meant to stay off campus…'_

'I am aware of that Cadet.' Spock replied. 'There were… unforseen circumstances which made it prudent for Nyota to remain off campus.'

' _Huh… Um. Okay then Sir. Should I expect Nyota tonight or not?'_

Spock considered for a moment. He could awaken Nyota and escort her back to the Academy, but it would be wisest to simply delay her return till the morning. 'Negative Cadet.'

' _Okay then. Um. Good night… sir?'_  The Orion continued awkwardly.

'Good night Cadet.' Spock offered politely. 'I shall inform Nyota of your attempts to communicate with her.'

' _Thanks sir.'_

He took the comm back into his bedroom and sat down beside her. He contemplated waking her, but she was deeply asleep and there was nothing urgent he needed to speak to her of.

Well, there was something he needed to speak to her of, but since he had no intention of doing so anytime soon, disturbing her sleep to  _not_  discuss the matter would be highly illogical.

He could feel it, the bond between them.

His experience with such things was limited, but he recalled precisely how his betrothal bond to T'Pring had felt. There were similarities between what now linked him to Nyota and what he had shared with his former betrothed. The major difference was  _what_  he felt from Nyota.

T'Pring had been a cool, calm presence in his thoughts. He had never felt strong emotions from her, only chilled acceptance and logic. What he felt from Nyota was quite the opposite. Even sleeping, he could feel her complicated, vibrant human emotions. She was  _happy_ and her satisfaction reflected through their bond in a way that Spock found… gratifying. He supposed it was this reflected contentment that was making it difficult for him to worry over what the repercussions of what he had done would be.

His father.

Sarek would be displeased. His mother would… most likely accept Nyota, perhaps be glad Spock had bonded to a human. Though she had attempted to hide it, she had disliked T'Pring greatly. It was possible her influence would lead to a lessening of his father's displeasure, but Spock knew his mother would not be able to protect him entirely. She had argued against Sybok's banishment, had argued against Sarek's inability to accept Spock's leaving Vulcan – and in neither case had Sarek been moved.

And Spock was forced to admit in this particular case, his father's reaction would be quite reasonable. His behaviour with regards to Nyota Uhura had been entirely irrational, guided by  _emotion_ not logic or sense _._  He looked down at the sleeping human girl in his bed. Unable to resist he curled a hand around her shoulder. She sighed in her sleep, enjoying the warmth of his touch.

Their bonding was illogical.

In the simplest terms they were an ill-conceived match. Their biology differed greatly. They would require assistance to procreate, Spock was much stronger and would always pose the risk of accidental injury to her and he would live perhaps twice as long as she. Nyota was not a logical choice for a bondmate and Spock could not argue that fact. Even the human perspective, fond of emotions and sentimentality as his mother's people were, offered little in the way of comfort. Whilst interspecies couples were common amidst the Federation and most humans would not think over much on that, owing to their relative positions in Starfleet, by Terran ethical standards their association was highly improper and immoral.

If it was discovered that they had a personal relationship of any sort it would most likely mean the end of both their careers. He sighed and brushed her hair back behind her ear. In comparison his father's marriage to a human had been of great use to him during his career as a diplomat. His bond to Amanda Grayson allowed Sarek to understand humans and other non-Vulcans in a way few did and he'd risen to the highest ranks of the diplomatic service in the Federation. For all her outlandishness, Sarek had always been able to defend his choice of a human bride as quite logical given his career. Spock had no such argument to hide behind.

If pressed he would be forced to admit that he had pursued Nyota based purely on selfish want. First he had desired her simply because she was beautiful and intelligent, but then he'd felt her mind, felt how she admired and adored him and that, he finally realised, was what had truly undone him. He recalled with his eidetic Vulcan memory that evening on Kolari. Nyota had given herself to him, not only her body, but also her heart. He'd felt her love for him but he had not recognised it for what it was.

Adoration, obsession, admiration - he'd tried to identify what he'd felt in her based upon his own flawed Vulcan interpretations of human emotions, but they were alien to him, he hadn't really understood. And now that he did – what?

He frowned and trailed fingers gently along her cheek before stroking her hair once more so he was not tempted by her thoughts. She had not brushed it before bed and it was wild and tangled from their lovemaking. When she awoke she would pout and sigh as she untangled it and make exceedingly illogical threats about cutting it off as if it were sentient. It was a ritual he had observed on several occasions over the last few weeks. She rolled over to face him and wrapped a hand around his thigh where he sat beside her.

He should awaken her and tell her to return to her dormitory. Then he should contact his father and confess what had occurred. T'Pau would most likely be able to server the bond he had forged with Nyota and she would be none the wiser.

Sarek would no doubt require him to resign his commission and return to Vulcan as penitence and in truth that would be necessary. It would be impossible for him to remain in contact with Nyota and not have her. He had tried and failed several times over.

As if she sensed the disquiet of his thoughts she huffed and burrowed against his leg. The unconscious gesture made his heart do that uncomfortable thing it did around her. His Nyota. His bondmate.

He could not do it. It was illogical, but he could not undo what he had done.

She was his and now that he had her, he would not give her up.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! the ending! (finally)

**Nyota**

In what was apparently becoming a habit, Nyota awoke in Spock's bed. Unlike the last few lazy occasions she'd found herself in his apartment however, she was instantly awake and filled with nervous energy. She sat bolt upright. It was early – only just past dawn.

_Dawn._

Shit! It was Monday! She had classes! She was meant to be in her dorm!

She stumbled out of bed and managed to get her foot stuck in the sheets. She went to take a step and instead fell awkwardly to the floor and whacked her knee painfully.

She glared at the offending limb and cursed under her breath as she tugged her foot free of the sheet and pressed her hands to her aching knee.

'Nyota?'

She looked up to find Spock in the doorway staring down at her in confusion. He looked at her, the bedding on the floor around her, and then the bed. 'Did you fall out of bed?' he inquired in a tone that she was pretty sure counted as teasing for a Vulcan. He was staring at her with great curiosity. She was pretty sure Vulcans didn't 'fall out of bed'.

'No.' she muttered defensively. 'I tripped.'

An eyebrow rose but he diplomatically made no further comment. Instead he walked over to kneel beside her. He was wearing his instructor's uniform. He gently removed her hand from her knee and peered at the injury. 'Do you require medical assistance?' he asked.

She smiled and rolled her eyes. 'No Spock. I just banged my knee. I didn't break anything.' she replied.

He nodded and pulled her to her feet. 'It is 06:47 hours.' he informed her.

'Shit.' Nyota muttered.

Spock ignored her outburst.

She made her way into the bathroom too hurried to care that she was currently naked and giving him quite a show. 'Can you find my clothes for me? I need to get back to the Academy ASAP.' she called.

He vanished and returned a minute later with a neatly folded pile. Her communicator sat on top. She nodded her thanks, her mouth occupied with a toothbrush. Frantically scrubbing her teeth she calculated how long she'd need to dress and get back to her dorm and when her first class started.

'Your room-mate contacted you late last evening and is aware of your current location.' Spock told her.

Nyota rolled her eyes in the mirror. Gaila meant well, she'd probably been at least  _slightly_  worried about Nyota, but for the most part she'd probably just been dying of curiosity. She'd be wanting a blow by blow of the entire weekend probably. Nyota rinsed her mouth and sighed. She looked in the mirror and smoothed her hair, not bothering to even  _try_ to untangle it. Tying it back in bun that made her dishevelled look seem an almost intentional styling choice, she glanced at Spock in the glass. He was standing behind her with his head tilted to one side staring avidly at her nude reflection. She blushed and snorted softly at him in amusement. His eyes snapped up to meet hers and for a second he looked flustered, his posture stiffening and his cheeks flaring a soft green. Nyota restrained the urge to tease him.

He accompanied her back the Academy, leaving her at the hoverbus stop with perfectly professional sounding farewell rather ruined by the way he looked at her and the brush of his fingers against her wrist.

Gaila was as wide-eyed as child at Christmas. She followed Nyota into their little bathroom and made her recite everything that had occurred since she and Spock had left the club on Friday night while Nyota quickly had a sonic shower and dressed in her uniform. She gave her a heavily abridged version, but she still found herself blushing a great deal and stumbling over her words.

Her room-mate was appropriately thrilled and scandalised in all the right places and Nyota had to admit she liked having someone to talk to about it. They shared a hurried breakfast in the D block cafeteria before their first classes. Nyota headed off to her lecture smiling and happy, feeling better than she had in  _forever._  She wondered if euphoria and a good mood was a side-effect of the  _Kash-nohv_  she'd shared with Spock the night before. Just thinking about the intense experience made her heart beat faster and a nervous thrill surge through her.

The memory was distracting. It felt like something incredible had occurred, it didn't seem real. What she and Spock had shared was so beyond the normal sphere of human experience that she didn't know what she should be feeling. They'd shared not just thoughts or feelings, but their  _minds._  For that brief period, they'd been one being. Nyota hadn't just felt Spock, she'd  _been_  Spock. And vice-versa. She felt like she'd crossed some fantastic threshold, borne witness to a miracle. It was bizarre that she should be sitting in a lecture hall listening to a bored Lieutenant lecture on Beta Quadrant Xenoculture when the night before she'd experienced something so amazing.

And it wasn't just the experience itself - though she imagined participating in a Vulcan mind meld would be awe inspiring to a human regardless of the specifics of the situation – but what she'd felt when Spock was joined to her. She'd known his feelings for her and changed over the course of their complicated involvement, he'd called her  _ashayam_ after all, but she'd still been shocked. What he felt for her was a world away from cool and logical, but it wasn't just that violent, sexual possessiveness he'd so often exhibited. She wasn't just some pretty human girl to play with, he didn't just want her body. He cared for her, deeply, and even if he never said the words or told her outright, she knew it now and it made her heart soar. For the first time, Nyota thought that maybe Spock could love her - that perhaps part of him – the human part – already did.

Risian diplomacy – the manner in which the peaceful species had maintained neutrality and independence despite centuries of interaction with powerful factions throughout the galaxy – whilst interesting, just couldn't hold her attention. The lecturer's words washed in one ear and out the other as Nyota instead contemplated Spock. There was a warm feeling in the back of her mind, a strange sensation like the mental equivalent of something seen in her peripheral vision. It was as if Spock was standing just out of sight, that she might turn and find him right behind her. It was oddly reassuring.

The morning passed in a pleasant blur. She ate lunch with Hendorff and Zu'mos, and then spent two very enjoyable hours staring at Spock in her afternoon Phonology lecture before her Choral group meeting. She headed to her usual TA appointment practically skipping. Perhaps afterwards they'd get some dinner together? Or maybe she'd even cook him something. She idly thought of vegetarian dishes she knew how to cook that he might like. He seemed to like spicy and salty things.

Usually she'd wait the fifteen minutes between her choral practise and their appointment and use it quickly get a bite to eat or fit in a bit of revision, but she was eager to see Spock and doubted very much that's he'd have any issue with her arriving a little early.

As expected his office was occupied and unlocked. She sounded the chime politely and then triggered the mechanism. She was unable to contain the smile, well,  _grin_  that spread across her face as she entered. She turned towards his desk to greet him and stopped short.

Spock was not seated at his desk, it was empty. Instead a tall Vulcan in elaborate robes stood near the window with a face like carved granite. Staring at her.

She froze. The room was silent for too long. Neither offered greetings. Nyota attempted to diffuse the awkward situation by explaining her presence.

'Excuse me sir.' she offered in confusion. 'I'm Commander Spock's Teaching Aide.' The Vulcan blinked but offered no further response. She shifted her weight from her left to her right foot. 'Does the Commander know you are waiting?' she asked after a moment.

'He is aware of my presence.' he replied in perfectly enunciated standard. 'However it is you, Miss Uhura, that I wished to speak to.'

Nyota blinked in surprise. 'Me?'

'Indeed. Professor Jones informed me I would locate you here.' He glanced around the room. 'You are Spock's …  _aide_?'

If the man hadn't been a Vulcan she would have assumed he was implying something with his tone. 'I am his teaching assistant yes.' she agreed.

'But you are still a Cadet Miss Uhura?' he inquired.

'Yes, I'm a fourth year student.' she replied warily.

'Professor Jones spoke admiringly of your skills as a linguist when I made inquiries after you.' he continued. 'You are fluent in four dialects of Vuhlkansu?'

Was he looking for an interpreter? He was going about it weirdly even for a Vulcan. 'That's correct sir.' she replied. 'Might I ask  _why_  you are interested in my studies?'

'You are no doubt far more versed in Vulcan culture than the average Terran owing to your study of our language.' he remarked ignoring her question.

'To a certain degree.' Nyota agreed, 'Though I'm no xenoculture specialist.'

'Then you are aware that what has passed between you and my son is not only highly illogical, but grossly inappropriate.' His expression hadn't changed at all, but Nyota detected a distinct… disapproval.

She froze in alarm. 'I'm uncertain what you are referring to sir.'

'I refer to your sexual interactions with my son.' came the cool response.

Nyota gaped. 'Sir, I don't even know your name, let alone who your son is.' Of course she had a sinking suspicion based on a certain familiarity to those dark eyes and the line of his nose…

The Vulcan pursed his lips slightly. 'I am Sarek of Vulcan.'

The name was familiar. 'The Vulcan Ambassador?' she asked recalling the function she'd attended after the Cardassian border dispute. She was certain he had been the diplomat even the Andorians and Tellarites had admitted grudging admiration for.

'Indeed.' he replied coldly.

'And your son is… Spock?' she guessed. They'd never really spoken about their families to each other, their relationship was still too new.

'Yes.' He set his full attention upon her and Nyota instinctually stepped back. Well. It was obvious where Spock inherited his ability to be as intimidating as all hell from. 'He is prone to bouts of emotional and illogical behaviour.' Ambassador Sarek continued. 'His mother is human. His control is not what it should be.'

'I… see.' Nyota responded even though she really didn't. 'How –  _Why_  would think I was involved with Commander Spock?' she asked. Unless he'd told him, possible she supposed though it seemed unlikely, she was at a loss.

Sarek of Vulcan exhaled audibly through his nose. His face did not betray anything, but Nyota was 99.9% certain he was pissed off and most definitely not her biggest fan. 'How could I fail to be aware of your  _association_  given your indecent state when you attended the Cardassian function 15 days ago?'

Nyota felt herself blush bright red. Her face felt like it might burst into flame. She wanted to turn and run from the room, from this mortifying conversation.

'Intimately familiar as you are with Vulcan biology, you must have been aware that the  _reek_  of my son upon you was obscene to those of us present.'

She swallowed and looked down at the floor, wishing heartily that it would swallow her. Apparently she hadn't avoided the Vulcans at that function enough. Had Spock known? She recalled his delight on her return, his proclamation that she 'smelt of him.' Had it been intentional? Had he let her go there knowing his  _father_  would be present? She tried to stamp down on the indignant anger welling up in her at the suspicion.

'I… I didn't know.' Nyota protested weakly in explanation. For a terrible moment she thought she might cry.

'I require assurances that you will provide no further embarrassment to my Clan.' Spock's father said. 'You will cease your intimate relations with my son.'

His words shocked her out of her embarrassment slightly and she was able to meet his eyes once more. 'I apologise for any embarrassment I might have caused you Ambassador, I assure you it was not my intention that such private things be made public, but I fail to see how who I have 'relations' with is any of your business.'

A muscle in Sarek of Vulcan's jaw flexed but his voice remained cool. 'It is my business when your behaviour brings shame upon my house.'

' _My_  behaviour!?' Nyota gasped indignantly. 'What of Spock's?' She gestured at him, 'What of  _yours!?_ Barging in here and telling me who I am to sleep with is hardly polite or appropriate!  _Intimately familiar_  as you are with Humans, you should know that.'

'There is no future for you and Spock. He requires a Vulcan mate.' Sarek insisted.

'That's surely  _Spock's_  decision not yours or mine.'

'It is apparent you do not understand.' he replied. 'Your emotional responses do little to clarify your confusion.' He stepped forwards, lifting his right hand. 'I will explain.' Nyota looked at his hand and frowned. 'Your thoughts. Give them to me.'

Nyota backed away shaking her head. 'What?! No!'

The Ambassador paused but did not lower his hand. 'It is the most expedient method of communication.'

'Don't  _touch me._ ' she hissed.

'I have no intention of injuring you Miss Uhura, I merely wish for us to understand one another so this situation may be resolved.' As he spoke he stepped forward. Nyota opened her mouth to tell him to keep his hands to himself but she was distracted by sudden feeling of dread and intense anger. It wasn't her own. She turned her head towards the door, suddenly certain Spock was about to appear.

Sarek's hand was on her face and she gasped and tried to pull away but he'd gripped her shoulder. 'I will not harm you.' he again reassured her with his fingers held hesitantly near her temple.

Nyota raised a hand tried to slap his arm away. 'Stop it! No!' she snapped at him.

He frowned minutely and stepped back a little. 'There are matters I cannot speak to you of, things which make you and Spock unsuited to one another. I can think of no other method to appraise you of them.'

'Surely you can just  _tell_ me!' she insisted.

'They are not things spoken of.' He gave her a faintly dismissive look. 'If the concept of familial telepathic communication is so abhorrent to you, I fail to understand why you have cultivated an attachment to a Vulcan.'

Nyota narrowed her eyes. So this was some sort of test? To see if she'd freak out? She was loathe to agree to it, but at the same time it might be a good way to show Sarek that she really cared about Spock? He seemed to have gotten quite the wrong idea about her. She debated internally for a few moments. 'Fine. Show me.' she said with a bravado that wasn't real.

He inclined his head and stepped forward once more, right hand extended to press against her face. Nyota took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. His fingers were warm and dry. For a second that was all she felt, and then there was the cool bump of his mind against hers. It was very different to the meld she had shared with Spock. Sarek made no attempt to cross into her thoughts as she had feared he would, rather it was more like she was pulled forward out of her body and into his own.

She was in a ring of ancient weathered stone columns. A woman stood beside her, close enough that their robes brushed lightly against each other. Her body felt strangely heavy, her feet sunk deep into the sand. The air felt thin and hot. Alien and yet strangely familiar to her. T'Khasi. Vulcan. Nyota reeled in shock, her mind trying to draw away from what must be a memory of Sarek's, but he held her locked in place. Panic renewed itself inside her and she felt it echoed distantly. Spock?

She heard Sarek's voice inside her head.  _Be Calm Nyota Uhura. I will explain._

She felt no... malicious intent, and surely she would know?

_I will not injure you._ He confirmed.

She relented, stopped fighting. He was Spock's father, she would give him the benefit of the doubt.

She focused on the memory and it sharped around her, her senses taking it in almost as if she really stood there. It was overly bright and the colours were strange as lit by the twin suns in the orange sky. The great burning white alam'ak and the distant red of behr'ak. She looked, but could not see Czar-ak.  _Hidden behind T'Khut._  The voice of Spock's father informed her before directing her attention to the scene before them.

_Observe._  Two Vulcan children knelt before an elderly Vulcan woman in rich ceremonial garb. Sarek's voice echoed through her, explaining what she was seeing. _The ceremony of koon-ut-la – the telepathic bonding of a Vulcan to his future bondmate._   _This is what Spock requires. His emotional control is weaker than a full-blooded Vulcan owing to his human DNA and he requires the logic and calm of a Vulcan bondmate because of it._

Nyota realised in shock that the little Vulcan boy kneeling before the altar was, in fact, Spock.

The scene shifted and dissolved and she stood in an office of some sort looked at a large viewscreen. It played a security recording of Spock, slightly older, crouched over another boy, beating him viciously. She felt shock and dismay – Sarek's reaction to this long ago event. And then Spock was sitting beside her, his lip green and bloody, looking up at her from his child's face, contrite and ashamed of his behaviour.

He sounded very human when he replied. Uncertain, afraid, defensive, confused…  _'They called you a traitor.'_

She heard herself reply, but it was with Sarek's voice.  _'Emotions run deeply in our race, in many ways more deeply than in humans. Logic offers a serenity humans seldom experience – the control of feelings, so they do not control you.'_

Again the memory shifted around her and she was standing in front of a young Vulcan – not Spock –  _Sybok, my eldest son. Spock's half-brother._  His handsome face was so twisted with fury that he did not look Vulcan. He was screaming, accusing Sarek and others of murdering his mother T'Rhea – something Nyota knew was not true from Sarek's thoughts - swearing vengeance and proclaiming his disdain for Logic and the teachings of Surak. He was so blinded by his emotions that he could not see the truth and instead lashed out at his family in his rage.

Sarek's thoughts grew more muddled, instead of hearing his voice she felt vaguer impressions. Spock was at far greater risk of succumbing to his emotions than Sybok had been. He'd always struggled, it was far more difficult for him with his partially human nature. And without his control, Spock would be as a primitive animal.  _V'tosh Ka'tur_  - a Vulcan without logic – and Sarek was afraid, afraid he was already too late. That Spock, like Sybok would be also lost to him. No better than a  _Romulan._ A slave to his base emotions.

She understood his concern, but feeling it was too much. For all his talk on control and suppressing his emotions, what Sarek felt with regards to Spock was a painful mess of things. Regret, disappointment, anger, pity and other things she didn't recognise were all twisted around more relatable parental feelings like affection and pride. The contradiction and strength of Sarek's emotions was overwhelming.

Nyota sobbed and cowered from the onslaught. She called to Spock, focused on that fuzzy feeling and prayed he somehow heard her. She felt Sarek's shock and then nothing as her mind was suddenly enveloped from within, by Spock. She felt him almost as clearly as she felt Sarek.

The fingers fell away from her face and Nyota gasped, her eyes stinging as if she hadn't blinked in a long time. She stumbled and found herself steadied by a warm strong hand on her bicep and another on her hip.

Spock.

He was looking down at her with transparent concern on his face. The hand on her hip lifted and pressed gently against the side of her face. Instantly relief and reassurance flooded her. She turned into him, folding herself into the soothing strength of his body and buried her face against his chest.

He spoke, the vibration of his words rumbling deep in his chest but she couldn't make sense of them. Her thoughts were foggy and strange. Time passed – seconds or maybe minutes, she wasn't sure, and then the conversation cleared and come into focus around her. First just snippets, words and phrases in Vulcan that she was familiar with.  _Telsu. Bonded. Telik. Marriage._ And others she was not. High Vulcan.  _Kal-if-farr._

And then Sarek was gone and Spock took her home. She held onto his hand as he led her across the campus, uncaring if anyone saw them together. Rather than take a hoverbus he summoned a hovertaxi and Nyota took advantage of the privacy to rest her head against him and doze during the short journey.

She recalled the trip only vaguely and did not really feel like herself again until she awoke hours later in his bed. Her boots and jacket had been removed but she was otherwise fully clothed. Spock was not perched cross-legged beside her as was his want when she napped, but instead was stretched out beside her with his arms wrapped around her.

She lay against him for a few moments ordering her thoughts. He was awake. She could sense it through their… Tel. Bond. That was what that feeling she'd had in the back of her mind all day. Spock. The meld with Sarek and the half-recalled conversation between he and Spock had managed to both enlighten and confuse her.

'How do you feel?' he inquired softly.

'Alright.' she replied hoarsely.

A hand stroked down over her hair and settled on her shoulder. 'I apologise for my father's insulting and presumptuous behaviour. It was not his intention to hurt you, but he should not have melded with you.' She felt his anger at his father simmering beneath the surface at his words. She wondered precisely  _what_  he and Sarek had discussed.

'I feel okay now, it was just… intense.' she admitted. 'Your father is a complicated guy.' For some reason, perhaps those messy feelings she'd felt towards the end of the meld, she felt obliged to defend him. 'He was motivated by concern for you, believe it or not.'

'I do not wish to speak of Sarek, it is enough that you are uninjured.' he replied stiffly.

Nyota sighed and closed her eyes for a minute, marshalling her thoughts. 'You have kept things from me.' she said quietly, not exactly in censure, but certainly not in pleasure.

'I have not been entirely forthright with you.' Spock agreed. She felt distant fear, panic. His. He was afraid.

She stared at the Starfleet insignia embroidered on his undershirt. 'What is -' she mentally tugged at the muted  _Spock_  feeling at the back of her skull and he inhaled sharply, '- this?'

He was silent for a long moment and she felt him ordering his thoughts. 'It is a bond between us.' he replied at length.

'And what does it signify?'

'It… It is… there is not an accurate translation in any non-Vulcan tongue.' he replied at length. 'We are…  _telik_. Bonded.'

Nyota closed her eyes and calmed herself before she lifted her head to look at him. He met her eyes but she could tell he was still not being entirely honest. 'Telik translates to  _married_  Spock.' she accused.

He frowned slightly. 'An imprecise translation. Kal'if'farr denotes marriage in the full Terran sense of the word.'

She pursed her lips. 'I have never even heard that term.'

'It is High Vulcan.' He paused. 'The marriage rites of the V'tosh are ancient. Much of it is in the old tongue.'

Nyota huffed. 'You are being evasive. The commonly accepted translation for Telik  _is_ married.'

'A Vulcan pair cannot be married and not telik, so the usage is not entirely incorrect.' Spock conceded.

She tried a different approach. 'What did your father say?'

Spock's face instantly shuttered. 'He had made incorrect assumptions as to the nature of our association. I rectified that.'

'He did not know we were  _telik_.' she guessed.

'Yes.'

Nyota waited expectantly. She could feel Spock trying to work up to something but he remained irritatingly silent. She sighed. 'Spock. Are we married?' she asked bluntly.

'No…' he replied hesitantly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'Spock, are you fearful I'll get angry at you and end our relationship if you tell me what's going on?'

'I am concerned your reaction will be… emotional.' he replied guardedly.

'If you don't tell me  _exactly_ what this  _bond_ is, I'm going to get up and leave and I won't come back until you're willing to be completely truthful with me.' she warned.

Spock blinked. 'It is a telepathic mating bond. We are not married as we have not undertaken the ceremony, but we are bonded in the same manner.'

Nyota frowned. 'Okay, so… this bond. It's from when we melded?'

'Correct.'

She let out a relieved sigh. If sex and a mind-meld was all it took, it could hardly be uncommon amidst his people. 'So Vulcans form these sorts of bonds with anyone they are in a serious relationship with?'

Spock's head tilted. 'That is correct,' he admitted, 'however you are perhaps labouring under the misconception that Vulcans cultivate personal relationships in the manner of humans. We do not.'

'Oh.' What did that mean? They weren't married but as good as? Half-married? He'd only admitted  _feelings_ for her the day before and now they were basically  _married?_  She buried her face into his chest and screwed her eyes shut.

'You are disturbed by this.' he remarked.

'Spock.' she said sadly. 'Why did you do this? You… you can barely admit to  _liking_ me. Why would you allow us to become… telik?'

She could feel his thoughts racing in a thousand different directions and she had a terrible premonition that it had been accidental. That he'd just gotten carried away and more or less married her the Vulcan way on a whim. 'No.' he said. 'I knew… I knew melding with you would bind you to me.'

Nyota lifted her head again, blinking back tears. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He'd always been so presumptuous with her, but this was extreme even for him. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

His eyes bored into hers. 'You told me you loved me.' he accused her. 'You said you were mine.'

'You knew I didn't understand!' she insisted.

His hand came up to wrap around her face, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. 'Spock!' she spluttered, losing her fight against her tears. She wasn't sure if she was angry or sad. She felt betrayed.

His breath huffed out and he pulled her closer, pressing his forehead against hers. 'Do you not want me?' he asked quietly.

She swallowed thickly, but could find no words. Instead she burrowed fingers through his thick hair, holding him close despite her roiling confusion.

'You are human.' he said. 'And young. You would not have made such a commitment lightly. Terran decency and Starfleet regulations would have required you deny me.' His voice dropped until it was nearly a whisper, only audible to her because he was so close. 'That is why I did not speak of it. I was afraid, afraid you would say no and I… I could resist it no longer.'

'Spock I…' she did not know what to say. He was correct, if he'd proposed some Vulcan variant of marriage to her she wouldn't have said yes, despite her feelings for him.

'I have tried to be human for you. To be satisfied with a human attachment, but it is the Vulcan in me that chose you, not the human, and I have wanted you as such.' With each word he spoke lips just barely brushed against her own in a soft, warm, temptation. 'I have wanted you for my mate since you gave yourself to me on Kolari.' His fingers brushed over her temple and she felt a tingle of awareness at the touch. 'I have longed to share your thoughts… I have never wanted anything as I have wanted you. It drove me mad, and I did not care. I wanted you more than logic and peace Nyota Uhura.' He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.  _'Ashayam.'_  Another. ' _K'diwa.'_

Her heart felt like it might burst as agony and joy threatened to simultaneously tear it apart.  _'Spock_.' Nyota whispered brokenly, not know what she felt, if she wanted to laugh or cry.

' _Please. Do not ask me to release you. I do not think I can.'_ he spoke his native tongue, but he did not sound Vulcan at all. Nyota was reminded suddenly of Sarek's memory of the sad little boy with a blood on his face. She pulled back to look at him, pressing fingers to his lip and his cheek where there had been green marks on his child's face. What marks would she inflict upon him if she left him?

She needed to find some middle ground. She was not Vulcan and he was not human – but he was  _half_ human, he'd demonstrated that very fact to her on numerous occasions. 'Our being… telsu. It is… enough?' she asked thickly.

He blinked in confusion. 'Enough?' he asked in an inelegant almost human turn of phrase.

She licked her lips. 'As you said, I'm not ready for marriage. It's too soon and Starfleet…' she trailed off. 'But you need the bond, to share my thoughts?'

'Yes.'

'So, we can remain as we are. Bonded, but not married.' she suggested carefully. It was not the Vulcan way and it was certainly not the Human way, but it seemed like it might suit them quite well.

He was silent for a long moment. 'That would be… acceptable.' he agreed warily.

'Good.' Nyota replied. 'And don't you dare keep such things from me again. As your sort-of-wife I insist.'

She smiled a little at his shocked expression and dawning relief and then settled herself against his chest, giving him space to over-analyse and get used to the idea in typical Vulcan fashion.

'There is a word…' he remarked at length.

'Oh yes?' not bothering to open her eyes.

'Ko-telsu.' he said. 'It refers to a bonded woman. Though if you prefer to refer to yourself as my "sort-of-wife" I will accept that as a human eccentricity.'

Nyota knew the word. It was usually translated as 'wife', but in the same way 'telik' apparently didn't quite mean 'married' it appeared 'ko-telsu' didn't quite mean wife.

She pushed herself up on her elbows so she could look down at him. 'Is that so?' she remarked.

'Indeed. As my bondmate, it is the correct designation.'

She tilted her head to one side and chewed on her bottom lip. 'Does that mean I get to call you  _sa'telsu_?' she asked slightly nervously.

She felt his pleasure through their bond. He regarded her with a very intent expression. 'You may call me whatever you wish Nyota.' Her heart fluttered.  _'Nam-tor nash-veh t'du.(I am yours)'_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was very entertaining to write and I'm not sure how it happened, but my foray into 'Jerk Spock' ended up with what's arguably my most un-AU ending ever.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reviewed, especially those of you who've left me feedback from the beginning, it's always encouraging and gives me the warm fuzzies when I see your familiar names in the comments section. 
> 
> And of course thanks to Lamb who I wrote this for, PoorQ for advice and Obsessive for being my unofficial ff.net proof-reader :P


End file.
